


Dancing in Moonlight

by aworldoflis



Series: Dream!verse [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2013-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-28 02:27:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 63,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/669188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aworldoflis/pseuds/aworldoflis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(future!AU) Kurt knew dating Sebastian wouldn't be easy, if not for the fact that Sebastian is HIV positive then because of their horribly clashing work schedules. But as they learn to navigate their relationship, Kurt finds that HIV might not be his biggest problem. Because Sebastian's past keeps sneaking up on them in unexpected moments, and when they go to celebrate their six month anniversary in Paris, it quite literally smacks them in the face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Maganda](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Maganda).



> **Warnings** : polyamory, promiscuity, Sebastian/OC, Blaine/OC, mentions of HIV and suffering thereof, mentions of recreational use of weed, a threesome (talked about and happening, though it's not written out), and, I suppose, cheating. If you consider accidentally kissing someone who's not your partner cheating, that is. If you want more information on any of these warnings, please, don't be afraid to [ask me](http://letmegivyoumynumbah.tumblr.com/ask).  
>  **Story notes** : Sebastian is four years younger than Kurt, and as such never met him nor Blaine in high school. Even though he is HIV positive, he is asymptomatic, and therefore is not suffering from the illness in any way. Most importantly though, read the warnings and make sure you are okay with them, _especially_ the polyamory. A large part of this story features Sebastian in a loving (romantic and sexual) relationship with an original male character, so if your are unwilling or unable to support that, this is probably not the right story for you.  
>  I have incorporated quite a bit of French in this work, but you should not have trouble understanding if you do not speak the language. Relevant bits are always translated or explained - if they're not they are not strictly necessary to the plot.
> 
>  **A/N** : This story was written for the [Kurtbastian Big Bang](kurtbastianbang.livejournal.com) of 2012/2013, and is a type of sequel for a story I wrote earlier called [Dream About Us](http://archiveofourown.org/works/669160) (20k), which in turn resulted from [this](http://glee-kink-meme.livejournal.com/28110.html?thread=33472462#t33472462) GKM prompt. While it may be easier to understand certain references, it is definitely not required reading to enjoy this story.  
> I've been working on this story for quite a while now, and between the polyamory and a trans* OC I haven't exactly made it easy on myself. I have tried to do my research to treat each of these subjects with the respect they deserve, but if anything I've written is wrong or offensive, don't hesitate to [call me out](http://letmegivyoumynumbah.tumblr.com/ask) on it and I'll try my best to fix it.  
> I would like to thank [Unwritten25](http://unwritten25.livejournal.com/) for organizing this Big Bang in the first place, and for graciously granting me permission to post on a later date. Many thanks also to my beta [Sarah](http://hopingtobefree.tumblr.com), who told me to fucking write the story already, to [Pepper](http://pepperroxd.tumblr.com) and [Lari](http://larinia713.tumblr.com) for last minute emergency beta services, and to [Evelina](http://kathadrion.tumblr.com) for kindly giving me her AO3 invite. Last but not least, though, I want to give an enormous, gigantic hug to [Pao](http://sebastian-likes-tofu.tumblr.com), my bucko, who not only saved me from being artist-less but who also made the most amazing [cover art](http://sebastian-likes-tofu.tumblr.com/post/42251443994/cover-art-for-dancing-in-moonlight-by) for this story - you should go smother her with my regards. Now.
> 
> This story is dedicated to Maganda. Because I'm glad you're here to read it.

He runs.

He has just the conscience of mind to grab his winter coat before he storms out the door and down the stairs, his breath hitching already but he can’t stop, he can’t stay - not after what's just happened.

He doesn’t hear any foot steps following him but he doesn’t dare risk slowing down, and he urges himself on - down, down. Third floor. Second floor. First floor. He throws his whole weight against the front door before he remembers the door swings the other way around and he curses at the precious seconds it costs him as he finally makes it out the door and into the cold March evening. His fly is still open but he doesn’t care, he just runs, pretending not to hear the voice that echoes down the street, calling out after him.

" _Sébastien, reviens! Reviens! Sébas - arrête!_ "

But he doesn't stop, doesn't turn around.

The voice behind him curses -and it shouldn't make him smile as much as it does, to hear the man who prides himself on his eloquence swear- but when he hears the sound of a window slamming shut he speeds up just a little more. He knows he'll have to go back eventually, if not to talk things over then at least to pick up his stuff, but he can't do it now - not yet. Tomorrow morning, after they've both calmed down and had the chance to think things over he'll go back and face the music - right now he just needs to be alone.

He ducks into the nearest subway station, flashing his Navigo card in front of the reader before he squeezes himself past the automatic sliding doors, unable to wait until they've fully opened to get through. For a moment he stands frozen as he looks at the different stairs and signs, trying to decide where to go. He has half a mind to go to Place d'Italie and just go see a movie -he's not really in the mood for a movie, but then again, he's not really in the mood for anything and a movie might just distract him enough to calm down- when he hears the RER B roll into the station, and he immediately sprints towards the platform. He has no idea whether or not Pierre is following him or how close he is, but it seems better to take the first escape he can get. And really, if you wanted to forget there was no better place than the Marais, even on a Wednesday night.

But when the train rolls into Châtelet-des-Halles barely eight minutes later Sebastian doesn't move. His original idea of drinking himself into oblivion has lost its appeal somehow, and just the thought of the other distractions the Marais has to offer makes him sick to his stomach. And so he stays in his seat with his eyes closed, head leaning against the cold window as he lets himself be lulled into numbness by the quiet buzz of the train. If he could just stay here forever he could be happy, he thinks vaguely. If it was just him and the train he could forget, get away from this place and everything that had happened until it was all nothing more but a vague memory, a nightmare that may or may not have been real.

He shivers and huddles up a bit closer, and it's only now that he notices his fly is still undone. He quickly zips it up, swallowing down the bile that's suddenly risen up in his throat, and stuffs his hands deep into his pockets. In the left pocket the soft leather of his wallet and the smooth cover of his passport are warm against his skin, in the right his phone buzzes softly against his fingers, as it has been doing on and off for the past fifteen minutes. He blindly turns it off. He'll get yelled at tomorrow morning anyway, there's hardly any need to start subjecting himself to it any sooner than strictly necessary.

> _RER B direct pour Aéroport Paris-Charles de Gaulle. Voyageurs à destination de Mitre-Claye sont priés de changer trains à Aulnay-sous-bois._

It’s not the message but the sudden influx of travelers that shakes Sebastian out of his train-induced haze, and he straightens himself a little, pulling his legs closer to make room for the girl sitting down across from him. She's carrying a huge mountain backpack, and Sebastian automatically reaches out to help her when she takes it off and tries to move it to the seat next to her. It earns him a grateful smile and a heavily accented " _Merci_ ", and he fights to keep the amusement off of his face as he smiles back. Under other circumstances he would probably have started talking to her -maybe in French first, just for the fun of it- but not today.

The girl is clearly American, at least if the giant flag sown on the front of her backpack is anything to go by, and if that’s not enough to remind him of home, she looks like a lighter-skinned version of Jolene, his best friend and flatmate back home in New York. The memory sends a pang through his stomach, because if there’s anyone he’d want to be with now, it’s Jolene. He closes his eyes, imagining how she would just wrap her arms around him and hold him, no questions asked, until he was ready to talk. She’d probably make him warm milk with honey too, or chocolate chip cookies - something homely like that that he'd pretend to hate but would secretly love.

God, he misses her.

> _Aéroport Paris-Charles de Gaulle, terminal 2. Ce train ne va pas plus loin. Aéroport Paris-Charles de Gaulle 2 TGV, gare terminus._

The automated message hauls him out of his stupor, and he looks up to see the carriage has emptied and new passengers, heading back to Paris, are already getting on. They're tourists and Parisians alike, chatting excitedly or leaning back against a pole looking bored, depending on how many times they've visited the city before. There's an American couple behind him, New Yorkers if their accent is anything to go by, and before he realizes what he's doing he's gotten up, the thought of home suddenly too much, and he pushes himself through the crowd and out of the train. He can take the next one back, or the one after that, or any one as long as it doesn't have American tourists on it. 

There's no seats in sight, and so he just stands there with his hands in his pockets as the platform slowly empties. He can just make out the bottom right corner of the board displaying departing flights and check-in counters, and suddenly he feels his passport burn against his skin, and the idea hits him like a train.

He could go.

He has his credit card, his passport. His stuff is still at the apartment, but apart from a few souvenirs and memories that hurt too much now, there's little to nothing there that money can't replace.

Except, of course...

He shakes his head to get rid of the thought.

It wouldn't be cowardly, he tells himself. If anything, he'd be doing both of them a favor. Their circles of friends are so heavily intertwined they couldn't possibly avoid each other, and there is no way it wouldn't be awkward, not to mention painful and embarrassing, to go back. In the States Sebastian would be able to start over with a clean slate, and Pierre could sell Sebastian's stuff - god knew he could use the money. It would be a win-win, really.

He startles when the girl that had been sitting across from him on the train brushes past him, and she grins apologetically when she sees his confusion.

"Wrong side of the platform!" she sing-songs, pointing behind and then in front of her as she shrugs, lips pursed in an amused, self-deprecating smile. He watches her go, eyes darting towards the train in front of him and then back at her, at her giant backpack with the star spangled banner that seems to beckon him.

And when the doors of the train slide closed with a hiss, he takes a decision.

He's going home.


	2. Chapter 1

He’s here. After months of preparation and what feels like hundreds of e-mails back and forth between supervisors, Student Housing Departments, and apartment owners, he’s finally here.

Paris.

It’s still hard to believe, but the message boards and signs welcoming Sebastian at Charles de Gaulle airport are more than happy to remind him that it is really happening: he will be spending his final year of college in Paris, France, to do his master thesis.

He can barely wait.

It takes him longer than he would like to get to the conveyor belts, but by the time he makes it the belt’s already rolling, and his mountaineering backpack is one of the first to come out. His trolley takes a little longer, but fifteen minutes later he’s waddling towards the exit, crumbling a little under the weight of all the luggage and hoping he won’t have too much trouble finding his apartment. There hadn’t been any places left in the international student dorms, but the Housing Department had given him a list of private house owners who rented out spare rooms to students and that’s how he'd found his place: a more-or-less affordable room in a two-bedroom apartment not too far out of the center. His future flatmate, a certain Pierre Poêlon, had seemed like a nice enough guy over the internet, and Sebastian hoped he was in real life as well. And if he wasn’t... surely there would be enough guys in Paris who’d be happy to have him for a night.

He looks down at the paper where he’s written down the instructions Pierre had given him to get to the apartment: RER B to Denfert-Rochereau, and from there it was just a five minute walk. It turns out to be as easy as the instructions had have him hope, and less than one hour later he finds himself nodding gratefully at the older man who holds the front door for him. The building is disappointingly modern, far from the charming 19th century mansion house he’d been hoping for, but then again - at least there was an elevator now.

The apartment is on the fourth floor and he puts his luggage down before he rings the bell. He doesn’t hear anything, though, and when nothing happens even after the fourth ring, he beats his fist against the door violently, hoping fervently Pierre will actually be home. They hadn’t exchanged numbers, which, now that Sebastian thinks about it, was decidedly stupid, but before he gets the time to panic or think of a backup plan the door in front of him swings open, revealing a tall, skinny guy in boxers. He’s brushing his teeth, his short dark hair still wet from the shower he’s obviously just hopped out of, and Sebastian takes a moment to appreciate the display of bronze skin and firm muscle in front of him. Jetlag or no jetlag, his fingers ache to follow the trace of the stray droplets that slowly make their way over the guy’s pecs and down over his stomach, disappearing in the elastic of his boxers.

If this was Pierre, and he made a habit of walking around in his underwear, Sebastian’s stay in Paris had just gotten a whole lot more interesting.

If the guy sees him look he doesn’t seem to mind, and he mumbles something completely incomprehensible through his tooth brush as he beckons with his hand for Sebastian to come in.

The apartment isn’t very big - right in front of him across the hall there’s a small bathroom which Pierre has disappeared into, and Sebastian makes his way down the hall to a small, open kitchen, connected to a living room which contains two couches and a huge tv, but no table. On his right there are two closed doors that he presumes lead to one bedroom each, and that seems to be it.

Heaving a heavy sigh he chucks his luggage in one of the couches and then lets himself fall flat on his back in the other one, allowing himself to enjoy the loss of pressure on his shoulders and feet and most of all the fact that, after almost eleven hours of traveling, he’s finally ‘home’.

He lifts his head again barely half a minute later though, when one of the bedroom doors opens and another, shorter, and decidedly less attractive guy walks out of the room. His ratty jeans shorts and washed-off t-shirt seem to be thrown on rather hastily, and he walks right by Sebastian, not even acknowledging his presence, straight to the front door. He’s already got his hand on the doorknob when the guy who let him in -and who Sebastian is now hoping more than ever is Pierre- comes out of the bathroom and almost bumps into him. Sebastian doesn’t understand a word of the little exchange that follows, their voices too muffled and his French still too rudimentary, but he understands something else very clearly when the shorter of the two curls his hand around the other man’s neck and pulls him in for a wet, sloppy kiss.

Well, that definitely answered _that_ question.

Sebastian doesn’t get much time to think about the kiss -or its implications- for too long though, because five seconds later the front door closes and Pierre -to Sebastian’s disappointment now dressed in a pair of sweats and a tank top- stumbles down the hall and into the kitchen, stifling a yawn.

“Boyfriend?” Sebastian asks, pushing himself up on his elbows, and Pierre looks up at him in surprise for a moment, as if he’d already forgotten Sebastian was there.

“In ‘is dreams,” he huffs then, although there’s a smile playing around his lips, like he’s holding in a chuckle. “Do not worry yourself, you will not see ‘im again.”

His English is heavily accented, and not quite as good as Sebastian had expected based on their e-mail exchanges, but the matter of communication quickly disappears to the back of his mind as he sees how the other man prepare himself a ridiculously luxurious breakfast. Freshly squeezed orange juice, something that looks like -but doesn’t smell like- scrambled eggs, toast, two types of jam and something that looks like cheese are placed on a tray together with a carefully slice baguette, and then carried towards the couch.

“You sure love your breakfast, don’t you?” Sebastian remarks as Pierre shoves the smaller of his backpacks onto the floor, but Pierre just shrugs.

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day,” he says dryly, and then points his chin at Sebastian’s luggage as he takes a bite of the baguette. “You bring a lot of bags. You know your room is small.”

“Well, it’s not like I can just go home to pick something up in case I’ve forgotten,” Sebastian shrugs as he lets himself fall back into the couch, and he throws his arms over his head. “I’m gonna be here for a year, I need a lot of stuff.”

“You are the type of gay who carries around enough clothes to dress all the ‘omeless in Paris an’ enough beauty products to fill a _pharmacie_?” Pierre asks, squinting a little at the backpack next to him as if he’s trying to see through the thick fabric, and Sebastian shifts, turning his head to look at him. He has no idea why Pierre assumes he’s gay, but it seems pretty useless to start disputing it when the outcome is set already.

“Would it be a problem if I was?” he asks instead, unable to keep the challenging tone out of his voice, and Pierre shoots him a satisfied smirk in response, as if Sebastian has just confirmed something he’d been wondering about.

“On the contrary,” he replies easily, an innocent smile on his face. “I am _just_ without moisturizer, you understand.”

For a second Sebastian just stares at him, and then he bursts out laughing.

“Big backpack, side pocket on the left,” he grins, more to poke fun than anything else, although he’s not entirely surprised when Pierre actually drops his bread on the tray, wipes his hands on his pants and starts looking for the moisturizer. It doesn’t take him long to find it, but when he does he shoots a disapproving look in Sebastian’s direction.

“You buy this from Walmart?” he asks, holding up the small tube. “I am not been in the United States but I know this is not good brand.”

“What?” Sebastian scrambles up, more than a little offended. “It’s a perfectly fine brand! It’s greasy, it’s creamy - it even _smells_ nice. What the hell more do you want from moisturizer? And just for your information Walmart is a great store. They have, like, _everything_!”

“ _Exactement_ ,” Pierre tells him as he drops the tube back into Sebastian’s bag without a second glance. “You want a French boy, you do not buy moisturizer in a shop that ‘as everything.”

He looks at Sebastian with disdain, and damn if Sebastian hadn’t underestimated that French arrogance everybody had warned him about. He’s just about to assure Pierre in no uncertain terms that’s he’s perfectly capable of picking up boys, French or otherwise, when he sees the amused flicker in Pierre’s eyes, and he can’t hold back a smirk when he realizes what is going on.

The bastard is testing him. He isn’t even five minutes in and the bastard is already actually _testing_ him.

Well, two can play that game.

He cocks his head.

“So I can't use a generic moisturizer, but it’s ok for you to walk around in unbranded sweats and tank tops?” he asks as innocently as he can manage, and he knows he’s scored a point when he sees a hint of a smile break through Pierre’s still serious façade.

“I take care of the present, not of the wrapping paper," Pierre tells him as he lifts his shirt and trails his hand over his abs. "Besides: I ‘ave always advantage over you.”

Pierre's eyes are positively shining with amusement now, and Sebastian decides to take the bait.

“And what may that be?”

“I am French.”

It comes out so easily it’s beyond even simple arrogance, and Sebastian bites his lip, looking at this guy who hasn’t even bothered to introduce himself, who doesn’t even _know_  him, but who, with a confidence even Obama would be envious of, still declares he’ll always be better at seducing guys simply because he holds the French nationality.

“Is that a challenge?” 

“I do not know,” Pierre shrugs, leaning back in the couch with his arms spread out over the back, wiggling his eyebrows. “You can ‘andle it?”

And it’s all Sebastian can do to simply smirk back, because this guy obviously had  _no_  idea exactly what Sebastian Smythe could handle.

“How about you take me out and we find out?”

.

Pierre doesn’t take him out that day, at least not to a club, but he does insist on showing Sebastian around the neighborhood. And so Sebastian gets dragged around to see where the best bakery is, what’s the nearest supermarket, where he can buy a metro pass, and where the farmer’s market is. The last one in particular Sebastian has absolutely no interest in -why would he bother to walk three blocks for fresh vegetables and _vegan cheese_ , of all things, when there is a McDonald’s right around the corner of their apartment?- until he catches sight of one of the stalls.

“Oh my god - are those escargots?”

He doesn’t wait to see whether Pierre is following as he makes his way over, just as he doesn’t bother to check whether the price is reasonable - fresh escargots are near the top of his Parisian bucket list, and he will have them no matter what they cost.

“I wants like six, please,” he tells the vendor in French just as Pierre catches up with him, but instead of giving him his order the man just looks at him as if he’s sprouted an extra head.

“I wants like six,” Sebastian repeats, more slowly this time, struggling to wrap his mouth around the unfamiliar sounds and trying very hard not to crumble under the vendor’s scrutinizing look. The fact that he can hear Pierre snickering behind him does not help in the least, and when the vendor shoots him another strange look and then simply turns around to take someone else’s order, Sebastian is pretty sure he’s never been this humiliated in his life.

“ _Oh mon dieu_ ,” Pierre mumbles behind him, and before Sebastian can react, he feels himself being pushed out of the way.

“ _Ey, mec, on t’avait demandé què’que chose_!” Pierre calls out in quick French. “ _Six escargots ici, s’il te plaît_?”

From what Sebastian understands, Pierre’s French sounds actually worse than his own, but somehow it seems to get the job done, and less then a minute later Pierre turns around with a smug smile, holding up the bag with escargots at a speechless Sebastian.

“ _There you go: six escargots for monsieur Smythe_ ,” he says with a tilt of his head, and even though his French is now less crude and markedly slower than when he was talking to the vendor, it’s still fast enough for Sebastian to have to strain to understand. 

“I could’ve handled that!” he finally manages, jogging a little to catch up with Pierre who has already moved on and trying not to feel hurt when Pierre’s laugh rings in his ears.

“ _No, you couldn’t have_ ,” Pierre teases, still in French. “ _Your accent is heavier than my obese uncle, and believe me - that’s a high bar to reach. And for future reference: it’s either ‘I would like six’ or ‘I want six’, not both at the same time. ‘Wants’ is third person singular, not first._ ”

Sebastian groans. He -maybe, possibly- had kind of made his order in French to -maybe, possibly- show Pierre he isn’t a completely ignorant American, but humiliation with a free French class on top was not what he had bargained for. Not to mention he really needs Pierre to switch back to English before the topic of conversation strays too much from his trusted ‘Chapitre trois: Faire Les Courses’ vocabulary.

“I mean you didn’t have to pay for that,” he says, more than a little indignant, “and it’s not like your English accent is much better.”

“ _Ah - but we are in France!_ ” Pierre tells him, a faux regretful look on his face, his eyes shining with what is quickly becoming a familiar sparkle. “ _Which means whether or not I have an accent in English is completely irrelevant. Your accent in French, on the other hand... very relevant. But if you can’t place your order, you can’t pay the bill. So really I suggest you start practicing your French, because god knows I don’t have the money to support the both of us. Escargot?_ ”

He stops and holds out the bag, the image of innocence with his head tilted and his eyebrows raised questioningly, but Sebastian just stares back at him, once again not sure whether he’s impressed or just annoyed by the guy’s arrogance, and he briefly wonders if this is how his friends at home feel whenever he unleashes the sharpness of his tongue. If he’d been with any of them he’d have long put them in their place by now, but he instinctively knows that any retort he could give right now, no matter how witty or to-the-point, will be professionally ignored when it’s in English.

And he never quite made it past that third chapter.

“ _Merci_ ,” he therefore says, taking a snail out of the bag together with one of the toothpicks Pierre is holding out for him, and when he turns to start walking again he almost misses the small smile that crosses Pierre’s face. It’s not mocking, or even triumphant as Sebastian would have expected, but rather amused and maybe just a little contrite.

“ _So, what are you going to do here in Paris?_ ” Pierre asks after they’ve walked a bit further, and Sebastian shoots him a sideway glance. For a moment he contemplates making a joke about seducing all the guys in town, but he finally decides just showing Pierre what he was worth later would be much more satisfactory.

“ _Master project,_ ” he therefore replies. He’d filled in enough forms to know that word, at least. “ _I am... last year of-uh... bio... biochemistry? At Cornell, New York. My-uh... my PI... that’s-uh... my..._ ”

“ _Your supervisor?_ ” Pierre supplies, surprisingly patient and helpful as Sebastian stutters his way through his sentences, and Sebastian nods gratefully.

“ _Yes - my supervisor know supervisor in SOLEIL._ ”

“ _‘knows’,_ ” Pierre corrects him, and then frowns as if he’s trying to remember something. “ _SOLEIL though... Isn’t that the overpriced X-ray machine they build in Orsay a couple of years ago?_ ”

“ _Saint Aubin,_ ” Sebastian amends with a smirk, pleased there’s at least something about Paris he knows that Pierre doesn’t, “ _and is more good than just X-ray machine. You no like science?_ ”

But Pierre just looks at him with that same look of disdain on his face he had before - as if Sebastian is completely insane for even suggesting it.

“ _I prefer to appreciate the magic of what we see and observe,_ ” he says daintily, “ _not analyze every why and what and how until there is left nothing but formulas and numbers._ ”

“ _Artist?_ ” Sebastian guesses, and he can practically see Pierre grow a couple of inches with pride. It’s endearing.

“ _I draw,_ ” he says. “ _I paint also, sometimes._ ”

“ _So you want be next Picasso?_ ” Sebastian mocks, but Pierre just wrinkles his nose.

“ _No one should ever want to be the next Picasso,_ ” he says disdainfully. “ _Or the next_ anything _, for that matter._ ”

“ _All right... so, who you want to be?_ ”

“ _I want to be the one to inspire people to come to Paris._ ”

It’s a simple statement, but it’s clear Pierre is dead serious, and Sebastian only just manages to straighten his face as he continues.

“ _I want to draw the city. Not just the monuments and the landmarks; I want to draw the people and the animals, the sun and the water - I want to draw **Paris** ; so that when the tourists who buy my drawings show them to their friends and family back home they’ll say: I want to go there too. That place - that is where I want to be._”

And that’s where Sebastian loses it, bursting out laughing - he hasn’t even seen any of Pierre’s work yet, but it seems like such a silly life goal to have. He’s a man of science, of numbers and formulas, where any experiment will have a set, predictable outcome. To have your success in life depend on something as subjective as whether or not someone likes your painting... But there’s no way he can explain all that to Pierre in his rudimentary French, and so when Pierre shoots him an indignant " _Quoi_?" he simply shakes his head, takes another escargot and says his first grammatically correct French sentence of the day.

“ _You are so full of shit._ ”


	3. Chapter 2

“You’re so full of shit!”

Kurt storms into the apartment, and Sebastian closes the door behind them before he follows after him.

“Sweetie...”

“Oh no,” Kurt warns him, spinning around. “You don’t get to ‘sweetie’ me; not when  _you’re_  the one overreacting here.”

“ _I’m_  overreacting?” Sebastian asks, voice suddenly dangerously low. “ _I,_ am overreacting? All right then - in that case: my deepest apologies for wanting to protect you!”

“But I don’t  _need_  protecting!” Kurt exasperates. “I’ve made it this far unscathed, haven’t I?”

“And I haven’t - trust, I’m aware,” Sebastian bites back. “Thanks for that reminder, by the way.”

“Sebble...” Kurt reaches out but Sebastian immediately pulls away. “Seb, please - that’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“Actually - I don’t,” Sebastian snaps. “ _You_ were the one who came after me,  _you_ were the one who said we’d figure it out. You knew what you were getting yourself into with me, so I really don’t understand what you’re whining about now that you actually have to face the consequences of that decision.”

“Seb...”

“No, Kurt! Just- no. We’re not discussing this any further. It’s either my way-” He stops and glances around, taking a deep breath before he returns his gaze to Kurt. “It’s my way, or not at all.”

The bedroom door slams shut behind him, and Kurt stands frozen for a few seconds before he lets himself sink down in the couch with a deep sigh, his head in his hands. He knows better than to run after his boyfriend right now, but the only other option -sit and wait until Sebastian gives up and comes out again- isn’t very appealing either.

“So, which one of you is being stubborn this time?”

Kurt looks up at the familiar voice, and he forces a smile when he spots Jolene leaning against the kitchen door, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. It had taken him a while to figure out how to be around her, and not because she is transgender. It was just slightly awkward to meet someone who not only knew Sebastian so intimately -they’d dated for almost two years in high school until they’d moved to New York together and she’d finally dared to come out- but who was also still his flatmate ánd his manager. It was hardly surprising she and Sebastian were extremely close, and Kurt had often wondered if they’d still be together if Jolene hadn’t decided to transition; Jolene always said ‘no’, Sebastian usually ‘yes’, but Kurt suspected he mostly said it just to spite Jolene. And Kurt.

“He’s being plain impossible,” he finally says in reply to Jolene’s question, scooting over so she can sit down next to him. “His lab results came back as undetectable and his CD4 count was stable and so I figured we could renegotiate some things and the doctor agreed but he just freaked out on me and-”

He stops his own word vomit by burying his face in his hands again, and he only just catches Jolene’s smile.

“What?” he asks tiredly, not quite sure what it was he said she could consider funny, but she just shakes her head.

“Nothing,” she says. “It’s just... a few months ago you barely knew what HIV was, and now you’re talking about it as easily as if I’d asked you about the weather tomorrow.”

Kurt gives her a wry smile.

“Isn’t that what happens when your boyfriend is HIV positive and you tag along to his doctor’s appointments?” He shrugs. “Now if only  _he_ would ease up about it a little we might actually be getting somewhere.”

Jolene doesn’t reply, and Kurt sighs.

“I just... I figure I just thought  _I’d_  be the one who was most scared, you know? I never thought  _I’d_ be the one pushing for more, and with  _Sebastian Smythe_ , of all people. Of all the things that could work against us -the safe sex, our characters clashing, our working schedules, ...- I never thought  _he_  would be the biggest hurdle to take.”

“He’s just... worried,” Jolene says softly, putting her hand on his knee. “He doesn’t want anything to happen to you.”

“I know!” Kurt says impatiently. “I know, I do, I really do - and I don’t want anything to happen to me either but... He just gets so...  _paranoid_... over the whole sex thing, you know? I’m honestly not sure he even enjoys it with the way he obsesses over every little detail.”

“Well, not to make it seem like I’m taking sides, but... don’t you think he has a good reason to obsess the way he does?”

The way Jolene looks at him makes Kurt bury his head even deeper in his hands, and he sighs.

“You really think I’m taking this too lightly too, don’t you?” he asks her, but she just shrugs.

“What I think is hardly important,” she says, “although in my personal opinion I do feel the stakes are too high to take any risk. But they don’t call it ‘negotiated safety’ for nothing, you know? There’s two of you in this relationship, and there’s two of you who have to agree on what you consider safe and what not, what risk you’re willing to take.”

“But he doesn’t want to take  _any_  risk!” Kurt exclaims heatedly. “That’s just the whole point! He... god, Jo, he barely even lets me  _touch_  him. I mean, I get he wants to be careful, but he acts like the world’s gonna end when I... touch his dick or something.”

He sighs again and then runs his hands through his hair. He just doesn’t understand how Sebastian can go from the smooth, innuendo-loving flirt he is when there are other people around to the reserved, overly cautious lover he turns into whenever they’re alone. Not that he’s complaining about Sebastian’s qualities as a lover - certainly not. Sebastian has never made a secret of his extensive experience -or how he’d gotten it- and while the idea in itself is still slightly unsettling to Kurt, it does have one distinct advantage: even with the little he is comfortable with, Sebastian knows exactly how to make Kurt squirm. Or scream. Or beg. Or all three at the same time.

No, quality wasn’t the problem. But sometimes -just sometimes- Kurt wanted to be allowed to return the favor.

“Look, Kurt... I know this is probably not the way you imagined your relationship would be when you got him to go out on that non-date," Jolene tells him. "But please don’t give up on him. I promise you: it’ll be worth the wait.”

She winks, and even though Kurt knows he can’t hide the blush creeping up on his cheeks he ducks his head. He’s long gotten over his shyness when it comes to talking about sex -or having it, for that matter-, but the reminder that Jolene probably knows every detail about his and Sebastian’s relationship makes him suddenly self conscious. Jolene seems to notice though, because she starts rubbing her hand over his back.

“You’re a good guy, Kurt,” she says. “You’re a good guy  _for Sebastian_ , and I hope one day you’ll realize just how much you mean to him.”

“I _do_ ,” Kurt starts, but Jolene just shakes her head.

“The last three or four years have been really hard on Sebastian,” she says, “and to be honest I never thought I’d live to see the day he'd dare trust someone enough to let them in. Just-” She raises her hand when Kurt wants to protest. “Just listen to me for a moment, ok? I don’t know how much Sebastian has told you about me, or his other boyfriends, but what he’s doing for you, what he’s giving up... please don’t take it for granted. And I know he’s not the easiest person to be with - on top of everything else he’s stubborn and selfish and quite frankly a serious pain in the ass. Although now that I think about it that might not be a bad thing necessarily... Anyway... the point is that he’s trying. For you. He’s trying so hard to be who you need him to be, and I really hope you’ll let him prove that he’s worth the hassle. He gave you a chance when you asked him to, Kurt. Now I’m asking you to give him one, too.”

“O-of course.”

Kurt’s never really been subjected to an if-you-hurt-my-best-friend/brother/son/...-I’ll-kill-you talk before -and to be quite honest he’s not even sure this is one- but he’s never seen Jolene so serious, and he has absolutely no idea how she expects him to respond, not in the least because for some reason it feels like she’s talking about something more than just the HIV.

“Yeah- yeah, of course I’ll give him a chance.”

“Good,” Jolene says, patting Kurt’s knee again and smiling widely. “Really good. Now... think you’re ready to kiss and make up?”

She nods her chin in the direction of the bedroom Sebastian had disappeared in half an hour earlier, and Kurt purses his lips when he follows her line of sight. Unlike Blaine, who tended to bottle things up and explode when it got too much, Sebastian usually exploded first and _then_ proceeded to mull it over endlessly. Trying to talk to him before he had finished his mulling usually only led to more shouting, but letting him mull for too long could get him in a funk he was hard to snap out of. Finding the right balance was something Kurt was still working on.

“I don’t know... ,” he says hesitantly. “I think I should probably wait till he comes out himself.”

But Jolene shakes her head.

“He won’t,” she says. “Not this time. He’ll be either embarrassed or still mad, but whichever the case you’ll need to take the first step. Try to be patient. Back up your arguments with statistics, leave out anything subjective - he’s more likely to respond to facts than to feelings. Then let him talk. Respect his veto.”

“Anything else?” Kurt asks amusedly, but Jolene doesn’t return his smile.

“Love him,” she says. “Love him, and make sure he believes it.”

.

Sebastian’s curled up on the bed when Kurt enters the darkened room, and Kurt only hesitates for a split second before he climbs on the bed too, wriggling himself into the small space between Sebastian’s body and the book he’s reading. He takes it as a good sign Sebastian doesn’t push him away, even curls his arm around Kurt protectively, and for a while they just lay there, the only sound in the room that of their breathing and the occasional page turning.

“Did you mean what you said?” Kurt finally breaks the silence. “Would you really break up with me over this?”

Sebastian doesn’t immediately reply, only adding to Kurt’s nervousness, and when he pulls Kurt closer and presses a kiss against his hair, Kurt turns around to face him.

“Sebastian...”

“Kurt...”

“You would.” Kurt doesn’t even know why he’s surprised -even in the heat of an argument Sebastian rarely says anything he doesn’t mean- but he is. “You actually would break up with me if I’d insist on taking things faster.”

“I would if that’s what it took to keep you safe,” Sebastian simply says.

“Stop talking about yourself as if you’re a hazard to my health,” Kurt says angrily, swatting at Sebastian’s shoulder. “You’re HIV positive, it’s not like you carry the plague. Besides, you’re undetectable now, so-”

“-that just means the test can’t detect any virus particles in my blood,” Sebastian cuts in. “It doesn’t mean they’re not there. I can still transfer the virus, we still have to be careful.”

“And I’m not saying we shouldn’t,” Kurt tries to explain, “I’m just saying we could... loosen up a bit. I'm not gonna rip off your ear by nibbling on your ear lobe, Seb, it's not because my teeth are touch your skin they're gonna break through it. And there’s absolutely no reason for me to have to wear a condom when you blow me - absolutely none. There wasn’t one before and there isn’t one now, even the doctor said so.”

“But if I-”

“No documented cases,” Kurt insists. “None. At all.”

“There’s a lot of cases where the way of transmission is unknown.”

“There’s also a lot of people dying in traffic but that doesn’t stop us from crossing the road, does it?” Kurt says and then sighs, reaching out to let his thumb trace along Sebastian’s jaw. “I know what I got myself into, Sebble. I really do. I’m aware you have this... _thing_... living inside you and that it would only take one moment of inattention for me to get it too. I know that it means that there’s certain things we’ll never be able to do. And I’m ok with that. But I don’t want to spend my life being scared of you, I don’t want to give this thing any more attention than it’s already getting. I know the risk, Seb, and I’m prepared to take it.”

“I know.” Sebastian smiles -he actually  _smiles_ \- and then tucks a stray strand of hair behind Kurt’s ear. “But this isn’t just about you.”

“Sebble...”

“I’m not ready to taking that kind of responsibility, Kurt. No matter what you say, if anything would happen it would be my fault. And I won’t... I  _can’t_  let that happen. Not... I just _can’t_. Okay?”

“Okay.” There’s something in Sebastian’s eyes, a sadness that makes Kurt just wants to kiss him and hold him through the night, and he scoots a little closer. “I hadn’t... okay. So... does that mean we’ll just stick to hand jobs with condoms for the rest of our lives?”

It earns him an eye roll and a sigh, but there’s no real irritation behind it.

“Give me time,” Sebastian finally says. “I... just give me time.”

“Of course.” Kurt leans forward to press a kiss against Sebastian’s lips. “Take all the time you need. You know I still love you no matter what, right?”

“I love you too,” Sebastian smiles. “And I’ll-uh... I’ll think about that blow job thing. Okay?”

“Yeah! Yeah, of course that’s okay. More than okay, even.” The mere though of Sebastian’s mouth on his dick, no layers in between, leaves Kurt more than a little breathless, and he swallows painfully. “And-uhm... not that I’m trying to push you here, we’ll just go however slow you want us to go but... do you think maybe a change of scenery could help? A dash of romance, perhaps?”

“Romance?” Sebastian asks, his tone skeptical though his eyes are twinkling. “Kurt, you know I suck at that stuff.”

“You’re not all that bad,” Kurt reassures him earnestly, kissing him. “And besides, sucking is kind of what we’re trying to achieve here, so...”

He winks and Sebastian laughs, now thoroughly amused.

“All right,” he says. “Romance. And how exactly were you planning to achieve that?”

“A little trip, maybe?” Kurt continues innocently, and Sebastian tilts his head impatiently.

“Kurt, if you’re not gonna tell me what you have in mind, I swear-”

“Paris.”

Sebastian’s jaw drops, and Kurt grins. This was exactly the reaction he’d been hoping for. 

“The company sends a small delegation to Fashion Week each year,” he quickly explains before Sebastian can say anything, “and I finally worked up my way high enough to be eligible. So... I applied this morning, and my boss said I have a really good chance of getting in. Isn’t it exciting? Isn’t it?”

He claps his hands enthusiastically, lunging forward to give a still speechless Sebastian a peck on the lips.

“It’ll be my first holiday in five years, Seb, and I could spend it in  _Paris_ , imagine! If I get it, of course, but... I mean,  _Paris_! I’ve never been in Paris before - have you?”

“I-uh...” Sebastian stutters, clearly still overwhelmed. “Yeah. I-uh... senior year, a long time ago. I-... uh... I don’t remember much.”

“Perfect!” Kurt squeals. “We can discover it together! Or rediscover, in your case...”

“We?”

“Well, of course ‘we’, silly! You really think I would leave you behind when I’m off on my big adventure?”

“I’m not... Kurt, I’ve got to work, I can’t just-” Sebastian stutters, and Kurt pouts.

“Ah come on... it’s still _months_ away!”

“But I don’t w-”

But Kurt's not even listening anymore.

“And we’ll talk to Jo, I’m sure she’ll be able to plan it in. Just imagine it, Sebble - you, me, the most romantic city in the world...” He sighs, already picturing the two of them strolling along the Seine, climbing the Eiffel Tower, ... “It’ll be _awesome_.”

“Awesome...” Sebastian repeats, with little enthusiasm, but Kurt knows it’s just because he’s a little overwhelmed and he chuckles as he nestles himself against Sebastian’s chest. After all, who  _wouldn’t_  be excited at the prospect of a romantic getaway with their partner? He couldn't imagin a better first trip to Europe, a first trip to _Paris_ , even, and he got to do it with the man he was head over heels in love with.

And he wouldn’t even have to pay for it.


	4. Chapter 3

“You know you should pay me for that, right?”

“Hmm?” Pierre doesn’t even look up, his concentration focused on the sketch pad in front of him. “For what?”

“For whatever it is you’re doing,” Sebastian gestures. “Using me as a model. How many drawings have you made of me by now?”

“Fifteen?” Pierre continues drawing unperturbedly. “Twenty, maybe. I don’t know, it kind of depends if you just count finished drawings or sketches as well. Why?”

“Because you’re using me as a model,” Sebastian repeats, and then, more to himself, almost as an afterthought: “God knows why.”

“Because you’re interesting.” Finally Pierre looks up, a mild look of surprise on his face, as if he doesn’t quite understand why it needs explaining. “Because I think _you’re_ interesting.”

He holds Sebastian’s gaze for a while, just long enough for Sebastian to start feeling uncomfortable, and then just bursts out laughing, returning his attention back to his work whilst shaking his head.

It’s always like this between them - one moment Sebastian is sure he’s being flirted with, and the next it feels like Pierre is just making fun of him. It’s a constant push and pull, and the fact that he desperately _wants_ Pierre to flirt with him doesn’t help his judgement in the least. But he’s learned the hard way that, more often than not, hooking up with friends ends up in disaster, and he’s not quite prepared to take the risk; Paris is an extremely expensive city for those in need of emergency accommodation.

And so in lieu of a more inappropriate response, he just says: “Well, ‘interesting’ doesn’t come for free, so pay off.”

“ _Up_ ,” Pierre corrects his French. “The verb is to pay _up_. And no.”

“And why the hell not? I’m sure you get people to model for you at the Academy all the time - I bet _they_ get paid.”

“They get paid some,” Pierre admits, “but you couldn’t do that.”

“Why?” Sebastian asks again. “Am I too pretty to share?”

Pierre’s pencil stills, and the silence lingers for a few seconds while he looks at Sebastian, a glint in his eye and a smirk on his lips. Sebastian knows that smirk: it’s Pierre’s I-just-got-an-idea-but-I-won’t-tell-you-what-it-is smirk, and he braces himself for what’s about to come. It’s disappointingly plain though.

“You’re American.”

“Oh sure, make fun of the American,” Sebastian exasperates. “We’ve never brought any good to this world anyway, right? Classy, Pierre - real classy.”

“You are American,” Pierre repeats patiently, “and Americans are prude. I would need you without clothes.”

Sebastian doesn’t even think about it - grabs his t-shirt by the hem and pulls it over his head and then, in one swift movement, pushes his sweatpants and boxers down to his ankles so he can step out of them.

“You mean like this?” he asks challengingly and then finally -finally- Pierre looks up. The look of shock and astonishment that crosses over his face only lasts for a split second before he schools his face back to a more serious expression, but Sebastian still counts it as a win; especially when Pierre slowly puts his drawing pad to the side.

“What are you doing?” Pierre asks as he gets up, moving to stand right in front of Sebastian, but Sebastian doesn’t quiver, simply stares right back at him.

“I thought you wanted me without clothes,” he says, and he only hopes Pierre can’t hear the roughness of his voice. Or if he does, that he interprets it exactly for what it is - an invitation.

“Hell yeah.”

Pierre quietly reaches out, his fingers grazing the skin of his shoulder -gently, almost reverently- before he trails them down along his collar bone. As small as the touch is, as big is the feeling it evokes, and Sebastian can’t suppress a shiver when Pierre starts circling him slowly, gently exploring his upper body with his fingers as he goes.

“An athlete’s body,” he says, and even if Sebastian can’t see him anymore he can practically feel Pierre’s eyes raking over every square centimeter of him. “What do you play?”

“Lacrosse. It’s like... a crossover between hockey and basketball, I guess? The stick is netted though. I don’t know how to explain, I don’t think they play it here.”

“Well, they should... they really, really should.”

Pierre’s come full circle, coming back to a still in front of Sebastian, pupils blown wide and his breathing just that bit more superficial than usual.

“So... does that mean I’m deemed worthy of pay?” Sebastian asks him.

“Name your price,” Pierre replies, staring at Sebastian’s lip as he takes a step closer, and it sounds like a challenge. “Though I feel like I need to inform you... I am prepared to pay in kind.”

Sebastian’s kiss initially ends up somewhere under Pierre’s nose, but he finds Pierre’s lips quickly enough, and he presses forward hungrily, losing himself in the taste of Pierre’s mouth and tongue. He knows he’ll regret it in the morning, but right now, when Pierre so clearly _wants_ and his own body is yelling at him, it feels useless to resist.

“This... damn... I’ve been wanting to do this ever since I saw you through the peephole that first day,” Pierre moans in between kisses, and Sebastian grabs at his wrists to still his hands.

“Seriously?” he asks, pulling back a little. “You’ve been wanting me naked for weeks and you didn’t even make a move? Dude, you have _got_ to learn to take initiative.”

But Pierre just bursts out laughing, shaking his head.

“Sébas, _mon coeur_ , have I taught you nothing?” he asks innocently, hooking his arms behind Sebastian’s neck. “Easy does it here in France - play the game, build the tension. That’s why you only ever get tourists: you want too much, too fast. Sex is only the cherry on top of the pie, you know. It’s good, but getting straight to it is just a waste of good pie.”

“You’re making me hungry,” Sebastian complains, placing kisses all over Pierre’s neck and face. “And frustrated. And I’m really glad you seem to have enjoyed your pie these last weeks, but could you please -please- shut up now so we can pop that cherry?”

“Of course,” Pierre says generously, and Sebastian -and his painful hard-on- heaves a sigh of relief. “One more thing though...”

“I got condoms in my room.”

“... please take off your socks.”

.

“Told ya I would get a French man willing to fuck me,” Sebastian smirks complacently when they’re lying on his bed not half an hour later, still a little out of breath, and he turns his head when he hears Pierre snicker.

“You mean you found a French man who took pity on you,” Pierre tells him with a smile, turning on his side and resting his head on his hand. “Not quite the same thing, _mon coeur_.”

“Hmm... I distinctively remember you telling me you’ve been wanting to fuck me for quite some time now...”

“Impossible,” Pierre says decisively. “I don’t remember anything of the sort.”

He immediately tumbles on his back from the force of Sebastian’s shove, and he laughs as Sebastian crawls on top of him, growling a little as he nozzles his nose against the soft skin of Pierre’s neck.

“Dick head.”

“As I recall, you loved my dick head,” Pierre teases, and Sebastian hums in agreement.

“Not sure why you’re using the past tense there,” he mumbles, working his way down Pierre’s chest. “It’s an absolutely wonderful dick head.”

“I kn- too soon. Too soon!”

With a hiss Pierre pulls Sebastian away from where he’d started to kiss the oversensitive subject of their conversation, and Sebastian winks.

“Well... at least you can't deny I have done my job right. I. wore. you. out.”

“You were... satisfactory,” Pierre admits after a pause, smirking. “For an American.”

“I was _awesome_ ,” Sebastian bounces back. “ _Because_ I’m American.”

He lets himself fall back on the bed next to Pierre, snuggling up to him just a little. He usually tries to avoid getting cuddly with his one-night-stands -guys tended to either think it meant something or kick him out because they thought _he_ thought it meant something- but with Pierre it feels right, somehow, and he smiles when he feels an arm being wrapped around him, encouraging him to scoot a little closer.

“So, I guess I’ll be packing my bags tonight then, ha?” he muses. “I’m sure I could crash Charlie’s couch for a few nights, and then hopefully it won’t take me longer than a couple days to find a new place, but it would be awesome if I could leave my stuff here at least-”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Pierre looks down at him, confused. “Why do you want to move out all of a sudden?”

“Uhm... because we fucked?” Sebastian says, not sure why it needs explaining. “Because people either fuck or they’re friends; not both.”

But Pierre just stares at him.

“Well of course _both_! What do you think the term ‘friends with benefits’ means?”

“Trouble, usually,” Sebastian says dryly. “Either that or they turn out to be transgender.”

Pierre raises a questioning eyebrow.

“Why do I have a feeling there’s a story behind that?”

“Because there is.”

Sebastian doesn't plan on elaborating. He’s never really talked about his relationship with Jolene before - partly because he’s just not a big talker when it comes to relationships, but mostly because he’s simply never met anyone who might understand. But Pierre keeps staring at him, clearly awaiting the story, and he sighs as he rolls his eyes.

“She was my roommate in high school and then later in college. We’d been seeing each other for like two years before she finally dared to tell me she was... well... _she_...”

“Wait... ,” Pierre says slowly, “let me recap that... You. Dated a girl. For _two years_?”

He bursts out laughing, and Sebastian shoves him playfully.

“Hey! In my defense: I didn’t know she was a girl.”

“Sébas, stop!” Pierre squeals. “That really doesn’t make it any better, you know? You were _dating_ her for christ’s sake, how could you _not_ notice that!”

“Because she’s a woman, they’re good at faking stuff... hey, I don’t know!” Sebastian exclaims, though he can’t stop himself from laughing either. “I was like seventeen or eighteen - I really didn’t care how much she liked to accessorize as long as she sucked my dick. And we weren’t really... _dating_... it was more like, we were having a lot of sex and then people sort of assumed we were dating and it was easier to just to along with it?”

“Oh _mon dieu_...” Pierre hiccups, slowly coming down from his high. “Oh dear... she must be one hell of a woman though, to put up with you like that.”

“She’s... pretty awesome,” Sebastian says, smiling as he thinks of Jolene and everything they’ve gone through together. “Maybe one day I’ll introduce you to her.”

“I would love that.”

And suddenly Sebastian feels like the room is too small for just the two of them, because what the hell is he thinking talking about introducing Pierre to Jolene as if he wants her to _know_ him? There’s just a little too much implied attachment in that scenario for post-casual-sex musings, and Sebastian quickly scrambles up, wiping at his nose and frantically looking for something to say to break the impasse.

“So, what now?”

“Pizza, I was thinking,” Pierre says pensively, wrinkling his nose. “Mushrooms and eggplant. And olives. _Mon dieu_ , I love olives.”

“No, I meant...” Sebastian takes a deep breath. “I meant... us. Where do _we_ stand?”

“Uh- in your room. Well, I’m lying and you’re sitting, but-”

“Pépé, please... ,” Sebastian pleads. “Just for once could you leave the jokes? This is important to me. I don’t wanna suddenly end up on the street because you though my blow job was less than satisfactory or because I brought some other guy home or-”

“Hey!” Pierre scrambles up, taking Sebastian’s face between his hands. “Relax, all right? Just relax. I’m not gonna throw you out. I’m not gonna get jealous. I _am_ , however, gonna make you feel really...” A kiss. “... really...” Another kiss. “... good.”

For a moment, Sebastian lets himself get lost in the kiss, a _real_ French kiss, and it’s only when Pierre tries to pull him down that he manages to get his head back on straight.

“So what are you suggesting here?” he asks, panting just a little. “No strings?”

“No strings,” Pierre promises. “We wanna fuck, we fuck. You wanna fuck someone else, you go right ahead. I promise I’ll do the same. I also promise I will now stop threatening the other guys I’ll kill them if they don’t let me have you first.”

“You’re j-” Sebastian starts, but when he sees Pierre’s mischievous smile he just shakes his head. “Fuck you.”

“Please,” Pierre replies with a quirk of his eyebrows. “Be my guest.”

.

It’s the first night they spend together, but it’s definitely not the last. Sometimes Sebastian thinks they should slow it down a little, give each other a bit more space once in a while, but then Pierre comes home with that smirk on his face, and Sebastian knows he couldn’t resist even if he wanted to. And it’s such a trip to finally be with someone who is as experienced as he is, who’s just as eager to experiment and try new things, and who, unlike so many of Sebastian’s other conquests, doesn’t start to imagine things after a while to try to tell Sebastian what to do or who to be.

They don’t just stay in bed 24/7 though. Sometimes they go for a run along the Seine together, or they randomly jump from one metro line on the next, discovering new places and neighborhoods, letting themselves be swallowed by the hustle and bustle of the city. They get robbed once, when they accidentally end up in the wrong suburb after dark, and Pierre spends the whole evening sketching everything they’d seen that day to replace the pictures Sebastian had lost together with his camera. Sebastian expresses his gratitude by finally giving in to Pierre’s pleas and tagging along to the impressionist museum of Orsay - and actually liking it. It becomes a tradition: the Louvre, Pompidou, Les Invalides, ... not a week goes by where they don’t spend at least one day holed up in one museum or another, and Sebastian spends hours just listening as Pierre tells him everything he knows about the paintings and the artists who created them. Time flies by so fast Sebastian is honestly surprised when he receives a worried text from Jolene asking if he’s all right, and he realizes he hasn’t talked to her in over two weeks.

“I’m okay,” he immediately texts back. “More than okay, even. How about a Skype date tomorrow? I’ve got something to tell you.”


	5. Chapter 4

“I’ve got something to tell you and I know you’re gonna looooooove it!”

Kurt bounces into the living room, throwing himself around Sebastian’s neck over the back of the couch.

“What are you doing?”

“Reading,” Sebastian replies simply, tilting his head so he can kiss Kurt. “Good evening, by the way.”

“Good evening.” Kurt smiles, leaning into the kiss before he pulls back and focuses his attention on the tablet on Sebastian’s lap. “Oh, it’s that tarantula thing again.”

“ _Pharyngula_ ,” Sebastian corrects him. “And ‘that thing’ happens to be one of the best science blogs out there.”

“Well, I applaud your passion to stay updated on the latest scientific discoveries,” Kurt says as he walks around the couch. “Even if I don’t understand it. And with ‘it’ I mean both the passion and the science.”

“I’m pretty,” Sebastian teases, “not stupid.”

“I know,” Kurt smiles, “that’s why I love you so much. Though you really need a new tag line.”

“Aw - I love you too...” Sebastian moves forward to give Kurt a soft kiss on his forehead, and then leans back in the couch. “Now, what is this exciting news I am gonna love so much?”

“Are you sure you don’t want to finish reading your article first?” Kurt asks, gesturing at the abandoned tablet. “I can wait a few min-”

“Kurt...”

“Okay okay!” Kurt swings his leg over Sebastian’s leg, settling down, a crispy white envelope with his company’s logo held carefully between his fingers. “So... remember I told you I applied to go to Paris Fashion Week next year?”

“Uh... yes?”

Sebastian sounds suddenly guarded, but Kurt’s too excited to pay it much attention.

“Well... they announced the participants today and... I’m one of them!” He squeals, bouncing up and down with delight. “Look, open it - open it! I got it, Seb, I dreamed of this for so long and now I actually got it!”

“That’s... awesome, pumpkin,” Sebastian says distractedly as his eyes rake over the letter. “That’s... that’s really awesome. I’m... happy for you.”

“Happy for _us_ ,” Kurt winks, “because you, my man, get to go with me. Nono- don’t worry about it, I already called Jo and told her the dates and everything, and she promised me she would keep your schedule open.” He leans forward to press a kiss against Sebastian’s lips. “You’re welcome, by the way. And I haven’t even told you the best part yet...”

He bites his lips in enthusiastic anticipation, waiting for Sebastian to ask the question, and it takes some nudging to get him to actually say it.

“So... what’s the best part?” Sebastian finally gives.

“We will be going to Paris from February 26 until March 10,” he says solemnly, but to his disappointment the dates don’t seem to ring a bell for Sebastian. “We're gonna be there March 9 - Sebble, we're gonna be there for our six month anniversary!”

Sebastian’s mouth forms a small ‘o’, clearly too overwhelmed to say anything, and Kurt sighs happily, snuggling up against him.

“Obviously I’ll have to work the first week,” he says, “but the second one will be _just_ for us. Just imagine it, Seb: we’ll be celebrating an anniversary in _Paris_! A boat ride on the Seine... shopping on the Champs d’Elysées... It’s going to be _amazing_. Oh god, I still can’t believe it. I’m finally going to see the Notre Dame...”


	6. Chapter 5

“I’m going to the Notre Dame, wanna come?”

It’s a beautiful day in late August, almost two weeks after their first night together, and even though if Sebastian wasn't planning on staying inside, the famous church wasn’t high on his list of possible destinations for the day.

“We’ve already visited there last week,” he says wearily, watching as Pierre gathers his stuff. “ _Twice_.”

But Pierre just laughs.

“We’re not gonna visit. We’re gonna draw. I need to do an historical building for my summer class and thanks to the libido of a certain flatmate I don’t have time to make studies of something less cheesy.”

“I didn’t hear you complain last night,” Sebastian shrugs. “But so basically you mean you want to go out make pictures with a pencil while I sit there and watch and twiddle my thumbs.”

It wouldn’t be the first time it happened - Pierre rarely left the house without his sketchpad and a pencil or two, and whenever something drew his attention he simply sat down and started drawing, regardless of where he was, who he was with, or where he had to be. It had led to Pierre -and them- being late on multiple occasions and to more than one heavy argument between them, and Sebastian would probably be tired of it by now if he wasn’t so fascinated by seeing Pierre make people and buildings come alive on paper with just a few simple strokes.

He’d never admit that out loud, though.

“Well, nobody’s stopping you from giving it a go yourself,” Pierre tells him, and Sebastian barks out a laugh.

“Right...,” he drawls. “Somehow I think that’s gonna be a very frustrating experience.”

“I could teach you.” Suddenly Pierre’s standing right in front of him, gently taking his tablet out of his hands and climbing onto his lap. “I’ve been told I’m a very good teacher.”

He leans forward, wrapping his arms around Sebastian’s neck as he kisses him softly, and the look in his eyes when he pulls back brings back memories that make Sebastian’s stomach do something that feels oddly like a somersault. It’s a feeling that’s become almost frighteningly familiar the past couple of weeks, and Sebastian prefers not to think too much about what it all means.

“Oh really?” he manages, telling himself to focus, to not turn into a pathetic lovestruck fool, but with Pierre smiling at him mischievously, licking his lips as he tilts his head, there’s only so much he can do.

“Really,” Pierre says, kissing him again, a promise of more to come, and that’s it - Sebastian’s gone.

“Okay.”

He’s not even ashamed for the roughness of his voice.

That was two hours ago, though, and right now the memory of Pierre’s persuasion method only serves to make Sebastian feel stupid, its underlying implication no longer an exciting prospect but rather an empty promise.

“Okay,” he growls, throwing his sketch pad on the ground in defeat and running his hands through his hair. “So this is not working. At all. Everything I do is shit.”

Pierre looks up from his own drawing for only a moment to look at him, glancing at the discarded sketches and then back at Sebastian.

“Yeah, it is,” he says dryly, and promptly tumbles over from the force Sebastian shoves him with.

“Well _thank you_ ,” Sebastian scowls. “Great encouragement, really, I feel _so_ much more motivated right now.”

“Stop whining and start drawing,” Pierre tells him evenly. He has scrambled back up, his attention back on his drawing pad, and Sebastian thinks he should’ve pushed harder.

“Seeing as _I can’t draw_ , that might be a bit difficult,” he sneers, pulling up his knees and resting his arms on them. “I’m done.”

“No, you’re not.”

“YES I-”

Sebastian cuts himself off midway through his sentence, the arm that had lashed out to shove Pierre again suddenly in a tight grip.

“No, you’re not,” Pierre tells him again. “You can draw perfectly fine. Take a new page, start over.”

“I’m not taking _anything_ ,” Sebastian snaps, trying to pull his wrist out of Pierre’s grip. He’s had it, _more_ than had it even, and this time not even Pierre’s puppy eyes will be able to change his mind. “And I’m not _starting_ anything either. I’m going home.”

He tries to stand up, tugging at his wrist, but Pierre won’t let go.

“ _What_?” Sebastian snaps, but Pierre isn’t even the slightest bit perturbed, wordlessly putting his own pad aside and patting between his legs as to invite Sebastian to sit down.

“Pépé, I’m not-”

It would take more than puppy eyes Sebastian had only just told himself, but as it turns out a pursed underlip does the trick just fine.

“You’re evil,” he sighs defeatedly as he lets himself be tugged down. “You’re evil and manipulative and I hate you.”

But Pierre just chuckles behind him, not even deeming his little rant worthy of a reply, and Sebastian leans back against his chest as he takes their sketch pads and puts them both on Sebastian’s knees.

“Look at your sketch,” he says. “What do you see?”

Sebastian crosses his arms, barely even glancing at his excuse for a drawing.

“I see something that sucks,” he says grumpily. “Yours is detailed and in proportion and like, _perfect_ , and mine-”

“And _that’s_ your first mistake right there,” Pierre interrupts him. “You’re not drawing what you see, you’re trying to copy what I’m doing.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes.

“Then what should I do, oh great wise mr. Miyagi?”

“Make your own drawing,” Pierre says calmly, unperturbed by Sebastian’s sarcasm. “Here, take this.”

He hands Sebastian a pencil as he puts his own sketch pad aside and then flips over Sebastian’s previous attempt to reveal a new, empty page.

“Now - try again.”

And Sebastian tries, he really does; even if it’s more for Pierre than for himself, he tries. But he doesn’t know how to get the proportions right, or how to add depth, and it barely takes five minutes before he gives up again.

“I can’t do this!” he pouts, throwing down the pencil. “Why don’t you give me some useful tips? Because I have a feeling just telling me to try again isn’t going to magically turn me into the next Van Gogh.”

“You’re comparing again,” Pierre reprimands him. “You don’t want to be the next Van Gogh, you want to be the first Sebastian Smythe. Besides, me explaining the theory of vanishing points isn’t going to turn you into the perfect artist either; if it would everyone at the Academy would be millionaires by now.”

He rummages in his bag for a moment, finally getting out a small case and handing it over to Sebastian, who opens it suspiciously. 

“Crayons?” he asks, turning around. “Seriously? You’re going to make me draw with _crayons_? What is this, kindergarten?”

“It’s back to basics,” Pierre laughs, grabbing Sebastian by the shoulders and turning him to face front again. “You want tips? Well, here’s one: stop trying so hard. This is art, not science - there’s more than one way to get it right and it doesn’t have to be a photographic representation of reality. Besides, you already have your camera to do that for you, and much faster, too. 

“Look, a child will draw the mother he loves so much in red, and the school he loathes in black. So this time I want you to draw not what you see, but how it makes you _feel_. Which parts of this building speak to you, which don’t? Remember how you felt when you were on that tower last week. Remember The Hunchback of the Notre Dame. Whatever it is about that building that makes you feel something - use it.”

It all sounds a bit too ‘new wave’ for Sebastian’s taste and he tells Pierre as much, eyes closed and arms crossed as he snuggles back up against him, relishing in the fact that Pierre actually allows him to do so.

“I know,” Pierre hums in agreement, and Sebastian can hear the smile in his voice. “It was just something my art teacher did with me when I just started, I thought it might help.”

“Oh.” Sebastian snuggles a little bit closer, smiling when he feels Pierre’s arms close a little tighter around him. “Did it help you?”

“No.”

There’s a beat, and another one, and then they both burst out laughing simultaneously, sending each other in another giggling fit if they so much as look at each other, and it takes several minutes for them to calm down again.

“Come on,” Pierre finally says, still laughing but taking Sebastian’s head in his hands to forcibly turn it towards the sketchpad, although he immediately follows it with a tender kiss on the back of his head. “Focus.”

“But you said it doesn’t help!” Sebastian whines.

“It didn’t help _me_ ,” Pierre amends. “It might help _you_. Now come on - my initial plan of discovering you are a natural talent already failed, this is the only back up I have.”

“Oooooh - the great Pierre Poêlon admits defeat!” Sebastian teases even as he reaches for one of the crayons, giggling when Pierre gives him a playful shove.

“I’m not admitting anything,” he grins, “now go find your inner child and make me proud.”

But Sebastian wouldn’t be Sebastian if he’d let Pierre get away with it that easily, and he relentlessly continues teasing him as he draws, switching colors as he goes - yellow for the sun that’s doing the best it can on a late August afternoon, purple for Esmeralda’s dress, red and blue for the rosette that dominates the church’s façade. He draws without thinking, to give his hands something to do as they talk, because it’s easier to draw than to fight Pierre over it, and when he puts his pencil down ten minutes later he looks at the finished product almost as if he’s never seen it before.

“So?” Pierre asks him softly, hooking his chin over Sebastian’s shoulder. “Do you like it?”

“I don’t know,” is Sebastian’s reply. And he doesn’t, not really. It’s not exactly the children’s drawing he’d thought it would be, which he’s rather happy about, but he’s not sure he would consider it art either. It’s colorful but not overly so, not very defined but still recognizable - it’s something that doesn’t quite know what it wants to be yet, but that holds a certain promise of what it could be, some day. “I don’t think it’s quite finished yet. What do you think?”

He can feel Pierre’s smile more than he can see it, and then there’s a soft press of lips against his temple, and words whispered in his ear.

“I think it’s beautiful.”


	7. Chapter 6

“It’s beautiful.”

“It is, isn’t it?”

Jolene beams at Kurt as he carefully lowers the frame and passes it down to her. She’d finally made the big decision to move in with her boyfriend, which meant that this weekend she, Kurt, and Sebastian were combining forces to pack up her things and get her settled in at her new place.

“I’ve always loved it. It’s not the angle you usually see the Notre Dame from, either - I think it gives it a little more character. But honestly, every time I look at it I just want to jump on the first plane to Paris and see it all with my own eyes,” she continues. “Not just the Notre Dame or the Champs d’Elysées, but like - the city. The people and the atmosphere and the reflection of the sun on the Seine... it’s amazing how a drawing can evoke that kind of emotion, don’t you think?”

“It definitely is,” Kurt sighs, still admiring the drawing. There’s no full name, just the initials P.P. and a date, 29/08/18. “Where’d you get it?”

“Sebastian got it for me in Paris, actually,” Jolene says. “You can see it’s made by a real Parisian too because they switched the date around, see? He sent it to me as a Christmas present. The irony is of course the thing arrived only after he came back, but anyway...”

“If you ask me you’re lucky it even got here,” Kurt laughs. “I hear European postal services are the worst. But why didn’t you go?”

“Me? You mean to Paris?”

“Well yeah,” Kurt says. “Sebastian went to Paris senior year, right? I thought you guys were still together back then.”

“Sebastian told you about _Paris_?” Jolene asks him incredulously, and Kurt tilts his head, surprised at _her_ surprise.

“Not much... just that he was there senior year, basically. He said he didn’t remember much so I figured he probably spent the whole time partying. Since, you know, it seems he had quite the wild streak when he was younger.”

“Who had a wild streak?”

Sebastian’s entered the room behind them, unceremoniously dropping a cardboard box on the floor, and Jolene and Kurt cringe when they hear its contents jangle.

“Take care with that!” Jolene admonishes him just as Kurt says: “You did!”

“What did I do this time?” Sebastian asks with a resigned sigh as he turns around to face them, but his eyes are sparkling.

“You weren’t careful with Jo’s stuff,” Kurt tells him sternly, but Sebastian just rolls his eyes. “And you didn’t do anything. I was just saying I thought the reason you don’t remember much from Paris is because you were drunk all the time. You know... because you told me you-uh... used to party so much...”

Kurt finishes his sentence unsurely, glancing back and forth between Sebastian, who looks like he’s either going to shatter to pieces or murder someone, and Jolene, who’s raised her hands in the air as if telling him ‘don’t look at me’.

“And I-uh... asked why Jo didn’t go with you,” Kurt continues carefully. “Since you guys were still dating back then.”

For a moment, Sebastian looks confused, and it’s Jolene who provides clarification.

“Of college,” she says, and Kurt turns around in surprise. “Seb went there senior year of _college_... not high school.”

“Sebastian went to college?” Kurt spins back on his heels. “You went to _college_? When did you go to college?”

The shock must be apparent in his voice and on his face, because both Sebastian and Jolene burst out laughing.

“How many times, honey?” Sebastian says, though it sounds bittersweet. “Pretty, not stupid.”

“I know that,” Kurt says indignantly. “But what did you-”

He stops himself when he sees Sebastian raise an eyebrow at him, and he realizes his mistake immediately.

“Science,” he says. “Of course you did science. Well, that’s been quite the career switch then... I mean - going from science to modeling.”

“He saw the light on his trip to Paris, actually,” Jolene mutters over his shoulder with a wink at Sebastian. “Started modeling there and never gave it up again.”

“I didn’t-” Sebastian starts angrily, and then takes a deep breath. “I _never_ modeled in Paris, okay? Never.”

“But-”

“Joey...”

Kurt has only ever heard Sebastian use the nickname as a term of endearment, but now there’s a certain danger to it, an undertone of warning that Jolene can’t possibly miss, and Kurt carefully glances between the two best friends. He’s not quite sure exactly what is going, but from the challenging look on Jolene’s face he does know he probably better stays out of it.

“It was a _joke_ ,” Jolene says to Sebastian, carefully punctuating each syllable, and to Kurt’s surprise -and even Jolene’s, it seems- it’s Sebastian who gives in, turning stiffly to Kurt.

“I had a... friend... who- studied at the Academy of Fine Arts in Paris,” he says - slowly, deliberately, glancing at Jolene every couple of words. “He... he used to draw me sometimes. It wasn’t... it’s not how I got into modeling.”

“Okay,” Kurt says softly. He doesn’t want to ask why Sebastian _did_ get into modeling then, or how he met that guy, or how long he’d been in Paris for if apparently he had time to get to know the locals well enough that they drew him on multiple occasions. The sudden tension in the room is already nearly suffocating him, and so he just silently watches as Sebastian wipes his hands on his jeans and steps back.

“I’m-uh... I’m gonna continue packing up in the kitchen,” Sebastian says clumsily, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb, and after another awkward couple of seconds he turns around.

“Take care with my china!” Jolene calls after him, and as soon as Sebastian closes the door behind him Kurt turns towards her.

But “Wh-” is only as far as he makes it before she silences him with a simple hand gesture, looking him up and down curiously, and he’s just about to try to speak again when she beats him to it.

“So, have you thought about moving in with Sebastian yet?”

“ _What_?” Whatever Kurt had been expecting, it definitely wasn’t this. “We’re not- Jolene, we’ve barely been dating for a couple of months!”

“So?” Jolene asks innocently as she starts wrapping up the Paris drawing. “I probably know better how much Sebastian is making than he does himself, and I assure you he can’t afford this place by himself. And I know for a fact he hasn’t started looking for flatmates yet.”

“No,” Kurt cuts her off decisively. “Just- no. All due respect, Jo, you did a really nice job on this place, but I still prefer my own apartment, thank you very much.”

But Jolene just laughs.

“Actually... I was thinking the other way around.”

“The other- what, like, he moving in with me?”

“Well yeah, why not?” Jolene asks. “He already spends most of his time at your place anyway. And you have to admit he’s the kind of guy you want to have around for breakfast.”

She winks, making Kurt burst out laughing as he nods in agreement. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day for Sebastian, and if he’s not on the road or doesn’t have to get up too early he usually takes his sweet time to enjoy it. Scrambled eggs, freshly squeezed fruit juice, an extra sausage on Sundays, ... Sebastian’s breakfast always makes it just a little easier to get out of bed in the mornings, and it’s not hard for Kurt to imagine waking up to the smell of freshly baked bacon every single day. He’d return the favor, of course, and cook Sebastian dinner, and on the days he'd have to work overtime they could order take-out or pizza and curl up on the couch together to watch bad Lifetime movies; or better yet: another rerun of Grey’s Anatomy. It would be a challenge to find enough space for both their stuff though; especially their clothes. Kurt could probably free up a few drawers, but they’d still have to buy an extra dresser... But maybe if they could move his vanity a little to the right, they could probably fit it between- 

_What the hell is he thinking?_

Kurt chides himself, forcing himself to snap back to reality and keep his two feet on the ground. He can’t seriously be considering to ask Sebastian to move in with him, can he? A guy he’s only been seeing for a short few months -and really only half of that, with the amount of traveling Sebastian does on a weekly basis-, a guy he clearly still doesn't know all that much about. Case in point: he hadn’t even know he’d gone to college until now.

“It’s too early, Jo,” he finally says decisively. “He’ll probably just say ‘no’ anyway.”

“After what I’ve seen today?" Jolene smirks. "I doubt it. Can I give you a tip, though?”

She looks at Kurt questioningly, and after a moment’s hesitation he nods, not sure what to expect.

“When you’re ready - ask him,” Jolene says. “Sebastian isn’t very good at reading people, and he knows that. So don’t wait until he asks you, because he won’t - he’ll either not pick up on the hints you’re giving, or convince himself he’s reading into things.”

“O-kay...,” Kurt says slowly, “sure. But... how will I know if _he_ is ready?”

But Jolene just laughs, patting him on the back.

“Just go for it. Believe me - he’s as ready as he’ll ever be.”

.

Kurt can barely feel his arms when he falls into bed that night, snuggling down under the blankets as he waits for Sebastian to join him. He comes out of the bathroom five minutes later, toweling off his hair, although Kurt’s attention is focused a little lower, on the stray droplets that slowly run down Sebastian’s chest and abs and disappear in the too-small towel that’s hanging low on his hips.

“You know you’re unfairly attractive, right?” Kurt says smiling as he watches Sebastian get into his pajamas, and Sebastian grins.

“It’s not unfair if you work for it,” he winks. “You’re welcome to join me in the gym tomorrow if you want.”

“I take the stairs at work,” Kurt says dismissively, holding up the blankets for Sebastian to join him. “I think that’s quite enough exercise for me.”

“As you wish... but then you’ll never get your body to look like this,” Sebastian smirks, lifting up his shirt and slowly stroking over the six pack that are his abs.

“Hmm...” Kurt wiggles his eyebrows, leaning forward to explore the exposed muscle with his lips. “I think I’m starting to understand why that artist of yours was so keen on having you model for him.”

“What are you-” Sebastian angrily pulls down his shirt. “Did Jolene tell you that?”

“What? No! She-”

“Well he wasn’t! He wasn’t ‘mine’ - he was _never_ mine! And I didn’t. model. for him!”

“I know that!” Kurt says a little indignantly, not sure where the sudden outburst is coming from. “I was just joking, I’m sorry, I w- where are you going?”

“To read my book in the living room,” Sebastian snaps over his shoulder, “where there’s no jealous boyfriends to ruin my mood.”

“I’m not- Sebastian!”

Kurt scrambles out of bed, storming after Sebastian.

“Seb, I’m not _jealous_! I was just joking, honestly, I’m sorry for whatever it was I said that made you upset but you have to believe me; that wasn’t the intention.”

Some time during his little speech Sebastian actually stopped, his head bent and his hand on the door knob, and Kurt carefully reaches out, laying his hand on Sebastian’s shoulder. He almost expects it to be shrugged off, but instead Sebastian turns around, looking strangely lost.

“No,” he says arduously, “no, _I’m_ sorry. I... I overreacted, it wasn’t... you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sorry.”

“Hey - it’s okay,” Kurt tries to soothe him, “it’s fine. It was just a stupid misunderstanding, right? That’s all it was. Now... will you please come back to bed?”

Sebastian nods silently, and Kurt wraps his arm around his waist. Things are _not_ fine, he knows that much -Sebastian can be volatile, but he's never lost his calm without a good reason before- but he also knows now is probably not the right time to talk about it. And so he silently follows Sebastian back to the bed, and he doesn’t say anything when Sebastian curls up against his side.

“I love you,” he whispers, and Kurt presses a kiss against his hair.

“I love you too,” he whispers back.

“No.” Sebastian straightens up just enough to be able to look at Kurt properly, and even in the dark Kurt can see the urgent, almost desperate look in his eyes. “I’m not just saying the words, Kurt, I’m not trying to be romantic or sweet. I really mean them. I know we haven’t been together long but... I do love you. I really, really do.”

“I know.” They’re not just words for Kurt either, but somehow he feels like that’s not what Sebastian needs to hear now. “I know. I can feel it.”

“Good,” Sebastian says, and the relief is almost palpable in his voice. “Good, because... I need you to know that. Whatever happens between us, I need you to know. I need you to know that I love you. I will _always_ love you.”

He looks lost for a moment, like there’s nothing left in him at all, and then he lays his head back down against Kurt’s chest, snuggling up as close as he possibly can. It doesn’t take long before his breathing slows down and his jaw drops just a little, the way it always does when he falls asleep, and Kurt absently starts stroking his hair as he stares into the dark.

He’s still not sure what it was he said or did that got Sebastian so worked up, but one thing seems clear, at least: Sebastian remembers a lot more from Paris than he initially let on, and Kurt is willing to bet a lot of those memories involve the guy Sebastian had or hadn’t modeled for. Sebastian had insisted the guy had never been his, however, so maybe he had turned Sebastian down, or maybe they’d been together until Sebastian had found out he’d been cheated on the whole time. Either way, Kurt decided, if he ever found out exactly what it was the guy had done to Sebastian, and if it was really as bad as he suspected, the guy had better not be living in Paris anymore by the time Kurt was there, because there was no telling what he’d do to him.


	8. Chapter 7

“Whatever it is you’re doing to me... please don’t stop,” Sebastian moans almost desperately, but his words are barely cold when a phone rings, and he groans as he throws his head back.

“Seriously?”

Pierre makes an apologetic face, as if to say ‘don’t blame me’, but he stills reaches back, fumbling for his back pocket, and Sebastian grabs at his wrist, simultaneously pulling Pierre closer and away from the phone.

“Leave it,” he mumbles against Pierre’s neck, “they’ll call back.”

“Probably,” Pierre agrees, but he still pushes himself up on his knees, letting out a groan of his own when he finally manages to fish his phone out of his pocket. “It’s my boss.”

“Leave it,” Sebastian insists, taking full advantage of the fact that Pierre’s bare chest is now quite literally right in front of his nose by sliding his hands along Pierre’s sides, leaving soft kisses and tiny licks in their trail to further back up his argument. “They don’t need you as badly as I do.”

He can feel the rumble of Pierre’s laugh run through his chest, but his happiness is short lived.

“Hello? Jerôme?”

Sebastian lets out a deep sigh, dropping his head against the smooth skin of Pierre’s stomach. If Pierre is being called to pick up an extra shift he’s going to be incredibly pissed. Not to mention terribly frustrated. He knows Tommy’s in town, but he’d really been looking forward to his night with Pierre.

Which means he better enjoy what he has for as long as he has it.

And so he lets his hands slide further up, ghosting over Pierre’s stomach and chest, and Pierre draws in a sharp breath when Sebastian brushes his thumbs over his nipples. And even though Sebastian can see through his eyelashes how Pierre shoots him a warning look, the hand fisting in his hair tells a different story, and he smiles to himself as he cups Pierre’s ass to pull him closer. There’s a tug on his head when he reaches Pierre’s waistband, teasing along it with his tongue, but he pays it no mind, sliding his hands to the front of Pierre’s pants to-

“ _Arrête_!”

Pierre swats at Sebastian’s hands, eyes widening in admonition when Sebastian cocks his head innocently.

“No-no - no, sorry, that wasn’t to you,” Pierre hastily apologizes to his boss on the other end of the line, shooting Sebastian another warning look and playfully hitting him on the head for good measure as he pushes himself off of his lap. “It was just- just my boyfriend being a dick. You were saying?”

He quickly moves his conversation to the kitchen, not noticing how the exaggerated pout that had started to form around Sebastian’s lips has faltered, or how Sebastian seems to have become unable to move.

Boyfriend.

Pierre had just called him his _boyfriend_.

They haven’t talked about it, about who they are to each other -not since that first night, at least- and so they haven’t discussed what it means when Pierre sneaks into Sebastian’s room in the middle of the night and curls up against him; they haven’t put a name to what it is that has them spend long evenings snuggled up against each other on the couch, talking about their hopes and dreams and fears, the movie they had been planning to watch long forgotten.

They are things that simply... are.

Sebastian isn’t in the business of lying, though, least of all to himself, and he’s had enough fuckbuddies to know that Pierre is more than that to him, that he’s _always_ been more than that. But it’s only now that Pierre has said the word out loud that Sebastian realizes just how much he wants it. 

Boyfriends.

They still go out, they still see other people, and Sebastian sees no reason to change that. But it’s _Pierre_ Sebastian comes home to, it’s _Pierre_ he wakes up next to. Because he _likes_ Pierre. Actually, properly _likes_ him. Not in the way he likes most of the guys he sleeps with - not even in the way he’d liked Jolene back in high school. It’s a new way, a way he hadn’t been familiar with before but one that’s quickly taking over his thoughts and his dreams, and however frightening it feels when he thinks about it too much, it’s too exhilarating not to.

He’s pulled from his reverie when the couch dips beside him, and he looks up to find Pierre swinging his leg over his lap, straddling him.

“Now, where were we?” Pierre teases, wiggling his eyebrows. “I believe it was right about... here...”

He leans forward to suck on a spot behind Sebastian’s ear and then slips his hands behind his back, softly dragging his fingers over the smooth muscle there. But no matter how soft the touch is, no matter how tempting the promise made by Pierre’s lips, it’s not enough to distract Sebastian.

“You called me your boyfriend.”

Pierre instantly freezes, hands stopped and lips motionless against Sebastian’s skin, and for a few long seconds time seems to stand still, neither of them moving or speaking, the only sound the soft buzzing of the refrigerator in the background.

“I did?” Pierre finally says. He’s trying too hard to sound casual, Sebastian can tell, and he nods slowly.

“You did.”

This time his words are met with silence, and no matter how hard he tries he doesn’t seem to be able to get Pierre to look him in the eye. But he has to know - he needs to know exactly what Pierre meant. _If_ he meant it, that is, and with Pierre acting the way he is Sebastian’s not sure how far he can push it. Maybe it had just been a slip of the tongue, after all.

“Why?” he tries.

It’s too far.

“I just did,” Pierre says roughly, standing up. “No reason. I was just messing around, forget about it.” 

“Pépé!” Sebastian’s just not fast enough to catch him, and he stumbles up after him to the kitchen. Because there had been a hint of something else in his voice; uncertainty, or disappointment maybe - but then again that might have been Sebastian reading too far into things. “Pépé, wait - that’s not what I meant, okay?”

“It’s not what _I_ meant either,” Pierre snaps, purposelessly opening and closing random cabinets. “I told you-”

“Pépé.”

“-forget about it, it’s no-”

Seeing the circumstances a kiss might not be the best argument to use, but right now it’s the only way Sebastian can think of to get Pierre to stop talking, to even just look at him, and he presses down hard, not letting go until Pierre stops struggling.

“Will you just listen to me?” he says when he carefully pulls back, ready to catch Pierre should he try to bolt again. “I didn’t mean... I just- look, I just wanted to know what you meant, okay?”

“I didn’t mean anything,” Pierre repeats unwillingly. “I told you, it was just a slip of the tongue. It didn’t mean anything.”

“Pépé...”

“Hey, we said ‘no strings’.” Pierre raises his hands. “So - no strings. It was a matter of speech, nothing more. It won’t happen again, promise.”

He sounds convincing enough that Sebastian lets him go, too baffled to say or do anything to stop him. Because he’d been so sure - that it hadn’t been just ‘a matter of speech’, that Pierre had meant it.

He’d wanted him to so badly.

“What if I wanted it to?”

Pierre immediately spins around, eyes big like saucers, the shock apparent on his face, although whether that’s a good or a bad thing Sebastian doesn’t know. But it’s too late now, and he only hopes he read Pierre right, hopes he knows him as well as he thinks he does.

“What if I wanted it to?” he repeats, heart racing against his chest. “Happen again, I mean? What if... what if I wanted- strings?”

“You mean like... you and me?” Pierre asks slowly, a hesitance in his voice that Sebastian prays is hope. “Us?”

“Well... yeah... I mean - kinda...”

Sebastian glances down, not quite sure how to continue. He’s not stupid, he knows what he’s asking for is something not everyone would be willing to give him. But Pierre is not just everyone - if he were, Sebastian wouldn’t have fallen head over heels for him.

“I just... I mean, I’d still want to-”

“Fuck the boys?”

Sebastian snorts. He really should’ve seen that one coming, and the fact that he didn’t only shows just how nervous he really is. But the joke has broken the awkwardness between them at least, and Sebastian’s heart skips a beat when he sees the way Pierre is carefully smiling back at him, still a bit shy but already with that familiar glimmer back in his eyes.

“Well, I was gonna say ‘see other people’,” he says, “but basically... yeah. That. Unless... you don’t want that?”

He proposes it hesitantly, suddenly not sure he interpreted it right, even if he’s not sure it’s a promise he’d be able to keep. It’s not that he’s got a cheating habit -so far he’s usually managed to ‘do the right thing’, breaking things off before doing anything he should regret-, but experience has taught him that he doesn’t tend to do too well within the confinements of serial monogamy, and he heaves an inward sigh of relief when Pierre shakes his head.

“No...” he says slowly. “No, I don’t... need- strings.” 

“Oh.” Sebastian’s face falls. “So you... you don’t want... ‘us’, then.”

“Nono, of course I do!”

Pierre seems taken aback by his own outburst, and he takes a deep breath before he continues.

“It’s just... that wouldn’t be a string, right? Because we’re already... I mean, it would be just a label, right?”

“Right.” Sebastian could sing. ‘ _We’re already..._ ’ ‘together’, Sebastian is sure Pierre was gonna say, which can only mean he’s been feeling the same way Sebastian has. “So... nothing would change, right? Just- _boyfriends_.”

He tests the word on his tongue, trying out the feel of it, trying to apply it to him and Pierre. He can’t wait to tell Jolene about it. She’ll probably scream, but then again so might he.

“Boyfriends,” Pierre confirms, and Sebastian can’t be disappointed too much if Pierre doesn’t run up to him to kiss him but instead walks away from him. Because there’s an extra skip in his step, an inviting shimmy of his ass, and Sebastian doesn’t wait until he reaches the bedroom to run after him. 

And later, when they’re lying in bed, Pierre curled up with his head on Sebastian’s chest, Sebastian feels more peaceful than he has in years. He’s living in the most beautiful city in the world, and he’s sharing it with the most wonderful man he’s ever met. And he couldn’t be happier when he leans down, pressing a kiss against Pierre’s hair.

“Good night, boyfriend.”


	9. Chapter 8

“Good morning, boyfriend.”

Kurt groans, jerking his shoulder to get rid of the hand that’s softly shaking him back and forth.

“Le’me sleep,” he mumbles, burying himself a little deeper between the sheets to get away from the unwelcome attention, “ ‘m ti’ed.”

“I know, doll face,” Sebastian chuckles behind him, “I know. But if you’re not getting up now you won’t be able to finish your skin care routine before the taxi gets here and I _really_ don’t fancy a six hour flight with a grumpy Kurt Hummel. So please get up? For me?”

“Am never grumpy,” Kurt grumbles in protest, and Sebastian laughs.

“Of course not, sweetheart,” he says with a well-placed slap on Kurt’s ass. “Now get your not-grumpy ass out of bed, get dressed, get marinated - we got a long day ahead of us.”

It still takes Kurt another fifteen minutes before he actually makes it to the shower, though, and by the time he stumbles into the kitchen Sebastian has already packed up their breakfast to go - including some freshly squeezed papaya-juice. It turns out to be a lifesaving decision: despite the early morning hour the airport is the busiest Kurt has ever seen, vibrating with the buzz of thousands of people trying to get out of town to celebrate Thanksgiving with their loved-ones. Check-in takes forever, security is hell and the flight itself is a downright nightmare, and Kurt has never been more relieved when he finally sets foot on Californian soil.

Over the years it’s become a tradition for Kurt to celebrate Thanksgiving in L.A. with Blaine and his family -his husband Dominic and their two children, Angelica and Yoselino- and this year’s no different - except, of course, this time Sebastian will be there too. It’s Kurt, however, who is the more nervous of the two. And with good reason, it turns out, because as soon as he points out Blaine and Dominic to Sebastian he's gone, not bothering to wait for Kurt to introduce him and walking directly up to Blaine.

“Blaine Warbler,” he says, almost reverently, and the small bow he makes only barely conceals the way he’s letting his eyes trail over Blaine’s figure. “Greatest of all Warbler soloists... - I’ve been looking forward to meeting you for a long time.”

“O-uh... thank you,” Blaine says slowly, shooting a slightly confused glance at Kurt as he takes the hand Sebastian is offering him. “It’s an-uh... pleasure to meet you too. But there’s been far greater soloists, both before and after me, I can assure you.”

“Even more modest than they’d told me you’d be,” Sebastian grins, not letting go of Blaine’s hand. “And a much hotter piece of ass than they said too, if I can be completely honest with you.”

“Sebastian!”

Kurt swats at Sebastian’s arm while pleading silently with Blaine and Dominic to please forgive his ill-mannered boyfriend, but Sebastian’s grin just widens.

“What?” he says, feigning innocence. “I thought you’d agree - why else did you date the guy? A voice like velvet and so winsome he gives Prince Charming a run for his money, or so I’ve been told.”

“Oh- well... that was a long time ago,” Blaine says, visibly embarrassed. “A lot has changed since then. Besides... as I heard it I’m not the only one who left a mark on the Warblers. Hunter spoke very highly of you last I heard him, said you were one of the driving forces behind steering the Warblers towards more... daring... routines. ‘Moves as smooth on-stage as they are off-stage’ were his exact words, I believe.”

“Ah - good ol’ Hunter,” Sebastian grins. “Always knew how to give a compliment. Pity he never actually allowed himself to discover what he was missing out on though - god knows I tried my best, but he just wouldn’t have it.”

“Yeah, he mentioned something about that,” Blaine says, his smile a strange mixture of bewilderment and confusion, with just a hint of amusement, and Kurt would’ve gladly sunk through the floor of the arrivals hall if that hadn’t meant leaving Blaine and Dominic alone with Sebastian.

“All right!” he squeals instead. “How about you guys exchange Warbler war stories later, and we get going now? I’m really tired and after that flight I could seriously do with a decent cup of coffee and a hot shower.”

.

They arrive at Blaine and Dominic’s house less than an hour later, where Sebastian immediately waves Kurt goodbye as he tramps up the stairs behind Dominic -contrarily to Kurt’s previous boyfriend Sebastian had almost jumped out of his skin with enthusiasm when he’d learned of Dominic’s small collection of spiders and reptiles-, leaving Kurt and Blaine in charge of the suitcases.

“I’m so sorry, Blaine,” Kurt immediately starts apologizing, a little out of breath as he drags his bag up the stairs to the guest room. “For Sebastian being so-”

“- _Sebastian_?” Blaine laughs, dragging along Sebastian’s suitcase a couple steps behind Kurt. “Don’t worry about it - you told me all about him and his flirty ways, remember? And Hunter gave me a fair warning as well.”

“I didn’t even know you were still in touch with him,” Kurt says. “Or with any of the Warblers. You know - what with the whole national-trophy stealing incident and all.”

“Oh that?” Blaine replies. “That was such a long time ago... And I don’t know, I guess one day I just realized I hadn’t heard Hunter in ages and you know what they say: no time like the present to get back in touch with an old friend.”

Kurt throws his bag on the bed with a huff and then places his hands in his sides, shooting Blaine an inquisitive look.

“Blaine... were you doing a background check on my boyfriend?”

“Of course not!” Blaine exclaims, but the blush creeping up on his cheeks belies his words. “I just... figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask Hunter if he remembered Sebastian.”

“You _were_ doing a background check on him!” Kurt exclaims, not sure whether to find the whole idea preposterous or simply endearing. “You so were!”

The pillow he throws at Blaine’s head misses him by miles, but that doesn’t stop Blaine from running over to Kurt and digging his fingers into his sides, making him squeal as they fall on the bed together, snickering and panting like the teenage boys they once were.

“We are _way_ too old for this,” Kurt giggles after Blaine has finally stopped the attack on his ribs, and Blaine shakes his head.

“Never,” he says decisively, smiling back at Kurt before he turns back to watch the ceiling.

“So...” Kurt asks after a few moments of silence. “Not that I don’t trust him but... you know... did you find out anything interesting about my boyfriend’s illustrious past?”

“Well... it’s illustrious,” Blaine replies after a pause, making the both of them burst out in another fit of giggles.

“Come on,” Kurt pokes in Blaine’s side. “What did Hunter say?”

“That he loves dick and he usually gets it too.”

“Oh god,” Kurt groans. “You’re making it sound like he was sleeping his way all through high school or something.”

“Hey, I’m just telling you what Hunter told me,” Blaine says, hands raised in surrender. “Take from that what you will. But as far as I got it the part where he tried to seduce Hunter is most definitely true.”

“Well, I know for a fact he was dating his best friend through most of high school,” Kurt says decisively. “They’re like, siamese twins separated at birth or something, so there’s no way he would have ever cheated on her.” The pronoun makes Blaine raise an eyebrow at him, but Kurt waves it off. “Long, complicated story, I’ll tell you later. Basically, I suppose this only illustrates what you experienced yourself at the airport... Seb’s an incorrigible flirt... Any other insights?”

“Well,” Blaine starts, “only that apparently he can be pretty... explosive.”

Kurt chuckles.

“Yup, certainly got that right.”

“That he is extremely intelligent.”

“Check.”

“And that any guy who can get Sebastian Smythe to settle down should consider himself the luckiest man in the world.”

Kurt turns his head at that, finding Blaine smiling back at him, and they stay silent for a few moments, simply lying on their backs on the bed together and enjoying each other’s company, like they’ve done a million times before.

“I am,” Kurt finally says, and he couldn’t keep the smile off his face if he’d wanted to. “I don’t even care if it sounds cheesy - I really do feel like I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

“I know,” Blaine smiles back. “I can see.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Kurt immediately amends, “he drives me up the wall sometimes. But then he looks at me with those bright green eyes of his and that eternal smirk and I know he’s worth it. Because there’s other times... like when he brings me flowers - you remember that flower shop just down the block from my apartment, right? _Obviously_ the clerk there is completely smitten with Seb, so basically each week he goes there and gets a bunch of flowers for free.”

Blaine just bursts out laughing, looking at Kurt with a mixture of apprehension and amusement.

“I’m not sure that counts as proof of his undying love for you, actually,” he grins, and Kurt rolls his eyes.

“He gets free stuff _everywhere_ ,” he sighs in faux desperation, “I don’t even know how he does it, he just gives them a wink or a smile and _poof_ , aperitif on the house, free dessert, ... and I’m just sitting there going - _what_?”

“I would be so jealous.”

“No, but see, that’s just the thing!” Kurt tries to explain. “He doesn’t do it to... _seduce_ anyone or anything, he’s just being himself and then it kind of... happens, I guess? Sometimes he’s actually really blunt, as you may have noticed, and still people just... turn into a puddle of goo wherever he goes. And he does the same thing to me, only then he actually _intends_ for it to be seductive so it’s like ten times worse. Like he’ll make me breakfast in bed, or surprise me at work... and I don’t know - I do the same things for him, but when he does it I always feel like I’m the most important person in the world. It’s almost too much sometimes, you know? Like it’s too good to be true. Like I don’t-”

“Ssh- I’mma stop you right there,” Blaine presses a finger against Kurt’s lips. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence, all right? You’ve worked really hard all your life, and you haven’t always gotten what you deserved. I’d say it’s about time you got some good things going for you.”

“Hey - I had plenty of good things going for me before Sebastian!” Kurt protests. “I got a job that I love, and I don’t wanna boast but I got a pretty sweet apartment, and-”

“You know what I mean,” Blaine interrupts him, head tilted slightly to the side and a smile playing around his lips. “So don’t forget to enjoy this, all right? Do I even have to tell you why?”

Kurt smiles as he shakes his head, and when Blaine quirks an eyebrow at him he sighs.

“Because I deserve it?”

“Because you deserve it.”

The soft press of Blaine’s lips against his forehead isn’t entirely unexpected, but the sudden knock against the doorframe is, and Kurt scrambles up in sudden panic when he sees who’s peeking around the corner.

“Oh no - you don’t have to get up,” Sebastian gestures dismissively, “just wanted to say me and Nic are gonna pick up the twins, in case you’re wondering where we’ve gone.”

“O-uh... sure.” Kurt fumbles, feeling strangely caught. “No problem. Just uhm... remember-”

“-to be back before lunch,” Sebastian finishes the sentence with a sigh. “Yes, I know. I travel around all the time, Kurt, I know how to calculate time zone differences. But Nic says it’s like, just around the corner, so we shouldn’t be long.”

“Why does he have to be back before lunch?” Blaine asks after Sebastian has waved them goodbye.

“His HIV medication,” Kurt answers distractedly. “He hates when I remind him, but I’m always so worried he’s gonna forget. But say, you don’t think he’s gonna be mad with me, do you?”

“Mad? Who, Sebastian?” Blaine frowns. “Why the hell would he be mad with you?”

“Because... well... you know...”

Kurt nervously gestures between the two of them, and Blaine laughs.

“Kurt, he was flirting with me in front of you _and_ my husband not two hours ago, do you really think he’s gonna be bothered because we were lying on a bed talking?”

“You kissed me, though,” Kurt says, not quite reassured. “Remember when you were so mad with me because I was texting that guy from the music store?”

But Blaine just shakes his head again.

“First of all - that was high school,” he says. “Second of all - Sebastian’s not me. And third of all... that wasn’t a kiss. It was a peck. On your forehead. Now, come on - stop worrying and come help me with lunch. I’ve got a feeling we’re going to have a few very hungry boyfriends on our hands when they get back.” 

.

True to Blaine’s prediction, Dominic and Sebastian -each carrying one twin on their arm- indeed claim to be in desperate need of food when they get back ten minutes later. They leave Kurt and Blaine to prepare the burritos, though, and retreat to the living room to engage in what sounds like a boxing match but turns out to be a crawling competition between Joselino and Angelica. Who the final winner is isn’t very clear to either Blaine or Kurt -Dominic and Sebastian both claim to have coached the winning baby- but the race has clearly worn both children out quite effectively, and after they’ve eaten and been put to bed, the baby monitor remains blissfully quiet and the four adults finally have time to sit down for lunch and talk. Much to Kurt’s relief Sebastian behaves -mostly- this time, even if Dominic is clearly very charmed, and when Blaine elbows Kurt with a head nod at his husband, who’s laughing much too loud at one of Sebastian’s jokes, it’s all Kurt can do to roll his eyes and silently mouth ‘ _every. damn. time._ ’

But even though the topics meander from family and relationships over favorite foods to politics, Sebastian doesn’t say a word about what Kurt has started to refer to as ‘the kissing incident’ in his head, and despite Blaine’s reassurances Kurt gets increasingly more anxious. Maybe Sebastian just wants to wait until they’re alone, he thinks, maybe he’ll even wait until they’re back in New York to bring it up because he doesn’t want to ruin Kurt’s Thanksgiving. The reasons he thinks up for Sebastian’s silence are getting increasingly ridiculous, but he doesn’t have the chance to actually ask him about it until Blaine and Dominic wish them an early goodnight and they move up to the roof, huddling close together to keep each other warm.

“So...” Kurt starts hesitantly. “I kind of wanted to talk about this morning...”

“Ah yes, I’ve been waiting for that apology,” Sebastian says, a stern expression on his face, and Kurt immediately starts rambling.

“I know and I’m sorry and I swear it’s not what you think and I promise if I’d known he was gonna kiss me I’d-”

“Wait-” Sebastian interrupts his rant suddenly, obviously confused. “Someone _kissed_ you?”

“Uhm... Blaine did?” Kurt says, equally lost now. “What did you think I was talking about?”

“About the fact that I had to call you three times before you got out of bed this morning?” Sebastian shrugs. “I don’t know, I thought you were just joking around, really... But wait- when did Blaine kiss you?”

“This morning!” Kurt exasperates, a little desperate when it becomes clear from the look on Sebastian’s face he has to elaborate. “You were there, this morning - we were lying on the bed and you came in and-”

“He gave you a peck on the forehead!” Sebastian exclaims as he turns towards Kurt. “Darling, please don’t tell me you’ve been walking around like you were having gas pains all day because you felt guilty over a peck from your ex?”

It’s all Kurt can do to just stay silent and bow his head, and Sebastian sighs, pulling Kurt closer.

“Sugar, come on... how long have you known me?” he murmurs against Kurt’s hair. “You really thought I would be mad with you for something like that?”

Kurt shrugs, snuggling up to Sebastian a little bit closer.

“You didn’t say anything.”

“Because I don’t _care_ ,” Sebastian insists, but he pauses when Kurt tilts his head to look at him apprehensively. “Uh... that probably came out wrong...”

“Very wrong,” Kurt says. “Not that I don't appreciate your openmindedness, but you can't tell me you weren’t even a little bit jealous?”

“I don’t know - should I have been?” Sebastian asks. “Look - obviously you still care about Blaine, and he still cares about you. And that’s a good thing, caring about people is a good thing. And I guess I could probably demand that you don’t hug him, or kiss him, or even see him, but all that’s gonna accomplish is that I won’t be confronted with it anymore, it’s not gonna change the fact that you still care about each other. So why would I stop you from doing any of those? You’re a smart guy, if you wanted to be with Blaine -or anyone else- instead of me you’d have upped and left a long time ago. So as long as you say you love _me_ , as long as you you still come home to _me_ , as long as you still call _me_ your boyfriend... why would I ever be jealous of anyone?”

“I... guess?”

It sounds so simple, the way Sebastian puts it, like some kind of utopian world where everybody always does the right thing and no one ever gets cheated on, and suddenly the full weight of the confidence Sebastian apparently has in him crashes down on Kurt. Because that’s not the world he lives in - where he lives people’s hearts get broken and trampled on, where he lives people lie and cheat, and he knows that even though he trusts Sebastian, there will always be a little part of him that’s just waiting to be disappointed.

“It was just a kiss, Kurt. Actually, it wasn’t even a kiss. I suppose it would have been a different story if I’d caught you two actually fucking or something, because then I’d probably have had to tell Dominic his husband was cheating on him and like, I only just met the guy, wouldn’t really want to have that as a conversation starter, right?”

“Not to mention you’d be heartbroken because _I_ had cheated on _you_?” Kurt suggests, not sure whether to laugh or cry when Sebastian needs a full second before he catches up. Was the idea of Kurt cheating on him really that out-of-this-world for him?

“Right,” he finally says, “of course, that too. I... god, I’m sorry - I guess I’m not quite used to the fact that you’re... _mine_ , yet.”

“Better get used to it quick, then,” Kurt smiles, pressing a kiss against Sebastian’s lips. “Because I love _you_.” Another kiss. “And I love coming home to _you_.” Another kiss. “And I absolutely adore being _your_ boyfriend.”

“See?” Sebastian smiles. “No need to complicate things. Anyway, what’s the plan for tomorrow?”

“Well," Kurt starts, "me and Blaine are going to pick out a turkey at a farm just out of town, so you can either tag along or babysit Dominic and the kids.”

“I’ll babysit,” Sebastian says quickly, and Kurt laughs.

“I should have seen that one coming. I have to say this, though: I never would’ve thought you of all people would have a thing for kids.”

“Are you crazy?” Sebastian stares at him in horror. “I adore kids! And they’re just at such a wonderful age too, eight months... that’s when they start really exploring their world, you know, where everything still baffles and amazes them. It’s the best age for being a parent, I think. Or the easiest, at least.” 

“So... you want kids, then?”

Kurt asks it hesitantly. The whole kids-no kids discussion had been a big part of the reason he and Blaine had eventually broken up, and he wasn’t too keen on a repeat of that particular scenario.

“I don’t know,” Sebastian shrugs. “I used to always say I didn’t want any because, well, I love playing with other people’s kids, but it’s a really big responsibility to have your own. So then I ask myself: do I really want to get up five times every night to feed this little monkey? And sometimes I think: you know what - I actually do. Not now, of course, but... oh god, what am I babbling about. Let’s just say I’m not opposed, but really at this stage it’s kind of a faraway, abstract thought as far as I’m concerned. How many do you want?”

Kurt takes a deep breath. It’s now or never, and if they’re going to disagree on this, he rather he knows it now than in three year’s time.

“None,” he says, quickly explaining when he sees Sebastian's surprised expression. “I design beautiful clothes for a living. I actually get paid to do something I’ve been doing for fun for as long as I can remember. I love my job, I really do - long hours and crazy deadlines included. I love it even if it leaves me with only little free time, but it’s exactly because I only have little free time that I want that time to go to _me_. Call me selfish, but kids require a lot of energy, and when I get home from a long day at work I want what energy I have left to go to something _I_ like to do. So- I don’t want them. I’ve never wanted them, and I don’t think that’s ever gonna change.”

Sebastian blinks, and Kurt swallows painfully. This is it, he thinks. This is the moment where Sebastian’s going to say he can’t be with someone who so vehemently excludes the possibility of children in his future.

Sebastian, however, just shrugs.

“Okay,” he says. “That’s easy then. And at least we don’t have to move to Long Island now, I have to say that’s kind of a relief.”

Kurt shoots him a confused look.

“And _why_ exactly were we going to move to Long Island?”

“Kurt, you can’t raise a kid in a New York apartment!” Sebastian exclaims as if it’s the height of common sense. “Kids need space and- and, like, _gardens_ , and stuff; you can’t just lock them up in a tiny space and expect them to be all right!”

“Seb, there’s _millions_ of kids being raised in NYC,” Kurt objects, only vaguely realizing there’s really no need for him to advocate the feasibility of raising children in New York City. “My neighbors have two daughters and-”

“-they’re crying all. the. time!” Sebastian finishes the sentence triumphantly. “It fucks-”

“-language-”

“-screws them up, Kurt, it really does.”

“You seriously would move to the suburbs just for the sake of your kids?” Kurt asks incredulously. Easy as it is to imagine Sebastian as some kind of soccer dad, he just can’t imagine Sebastian being happy living outside of the city.

“Well, that’s the thing now, isn’t it?” Sebastian grins. “We don’t have to! We can just stay in New York, find ourselves a penthouse apartment with a terrace and view of the Empire State... I’ll even let you decorate the whole thing. Except for your sewing room - I’ll do that one.”

“Not to mess with your obviously well-thought-out plan but... don’t you think _I_ should have a say in that?” Kurt asks amusedly. “Seeing as it’s, you know, _my_ sewing room.”

“No,” Sebastian says decisively. “You spend way too much time in there, and if _I_ decorate it you might look up and actually think of me every once in a while, at least.”

He tries to pull Kurt a little closer to his chest but Kurt resists the pressure, straightening himself just enough so he can look at Sebastian.

“You’ve really thought this through, haven’t you?” he asks, smiling. He remembers Jolene telling him how Sebastian was more than ready to move in with him, but up until now he hadn’t really considered the possibility she might have been right. But while he found hearing Sebastian dream about their future home more than just a little adorable, Sebastian himself seems more embarrassed than anything else now that Kurt called him out on it.

“I’m sorry,” he says, bowing his head. “I’m sorry, I- think I might have gotten carried away a little there. And now you probably think I’m obnoxious.”

“I thought it was sweet,” Kurt tells him, and Sebastian shoots him an apprehensive look. 

“Really?”

“Sweet,” Kurt reassures him. “And maybe a little obnoxious. But mainly sweet.” He gives Sebastian a soft kiss, and then pauses. He’d been waiting for a moment like this, where they would actually get to talk about their future together, but who was to say this was the right one?

Then again, who was to say it wasn’t....

“So... ,” he drawls. “Since we’re apparently on the topic of apartments now... have you found a new flatmate yet?”

“Oh god, Jo talked to you, didn’t she?” Sebastian exasperates before Kurt can say anything else. “The answer is no, Kurt. No, no, no, no, NO! You are _not_ moving in with me. Don’t get me wrong - I would love for us to live together, but I’m not a charity case; just because Jo thinks she knows my financial situation better than I do doesn’t mean you have to give up your apartment to like, help me out with the rent or something.”

“Are you saying  _you_ want to move in with _me_ then?”

The question makes perfect sense to Kurt, but judging by the way Sebastian just stares at him, baffled, he feels differently.

“Do I _what_?”

“I said: do you want to move in with me?” Kurt repeats, a little less sure now. “I’ve got a beautiful apartment with one of the best views of Manhattan and I don’t mind you helping me out with the rent or me being your charity case or whatever if it means waking up next to you every day.”

But Sebastian just keeps staring at him, his face completely expressionless, and Kurt’s about to make one very panicked and very angry phone call to Jolene for planting the idea in his head in the first place when he suddenly feels himself being thrown up in the air.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Well, of c-”

“You’re not just saying it to help me out, right? You really want me to move in with you?”

“You kind of practically already live at my place anyway so...”

“Yes!” Sebastian spins them around, and Kurt laughs, happy to see _Sebastian_ happy and making a mental note to scratch that phone call and send Jolene a large bouquet of her favorite flowers instead.

“Yes!” Sebastian exclaims again. “A thousand times yes! God, Kurt, you have no idea how happy you’ve just made me!”

“Actually I think I d-EDGE!”

Kurt screams when Sebastian’s enthusiasm almost causes them to lose their balance just three feet from the edge of the roof, but Sebastian just screams back ‘No edge!’ and then laughs, eyes twinkling as he holds Kurt’s gaze and keeps spinning them around and around.

“Sebble, I appreciate your enthusiasm but you’re making me _drunk_!” Kurt half complains, half laughs. “What are you even _doing_?”

“Why, I’m dancing with you, of course,” Sebastian says, obviously surprised he has to explain. “This is a celebration! We can’t have a celebration without dancing.”

“... of course,” Kurt says with an amused roll of his eyes. “Silly me. One small problem though, and I really hate having to be the one to break this to you, but...”

“Yes?”

“... there’s no music.”

“Nonsense,” Sebastian says, undeterred, though he slows them down until they’re simply swaying back and forth and then places his hand over Kurt’s eyes. “There’s always music. Ssssh... close your eyes... just listen...”

Kurt does as he’s told, trying his hardest to find the source of the music Sebastian claims to hear, but no matter how hard he focuses the only thing he hears is the distant rumble of some nearby motorway.

“I just hear traffic,” he finally sighs in frustration, but to his surprise Sebastian just chuckles.

“Exactly.”

It doesn’t make any sense to Kurt, but Sebastian’s beaming at him and he decides to let it go. They’ve had a great day so far: not only did both Dominic and Blaine seem to genuinely like Sebastian -and vice versa-, Sebastian had also just agreed to move in with him, quite enthusiastically so, even, and so whatever makes Sebastian happy, even if it’s imaginary music, makes Kurt happy too.

But as he lays his head against Sebastian’s shoulder and allows himself to sway along to Sebastian’s lead, he can feel himself relax. It’s a cloudless night, and they’re just far enough from the city that they’re able to see a few stars, a rare treat for two people who are used to the blaring lights of Times Square, and Kurt lets out a deep breath. There’s nowhere he’d rather be, he thinks, than on this roof somewhere in the suburbs of L.A., holding in his arms the man he’s so ridiculously in love with he knows he could never get away from him even if he wanted to. There’s something incredibly peaceful about it all - the way their breathing is perfectly in sync with their movements, and even the traffic in the background seems to- 

He can feel a smile creeping up on his face at the realization, and he lifts his head to tell Sebastian he can hear it too, now, the music in the traffic, but Sebastian’s lips are on his before he’s even opened his mouth. The kiss is soft at first, as most of their kisses are, but soon enough it grows increasingly more insistent, and Kurt eagerly parts his lips to allow Sebastian to deepen the kiss.

They kiss a lot, often for no other reason than just the thrill of it; it’s the one form of intimacy both of them are completely comfortable with, and so kissing has become a central part of their relationship: for comfort, for celebration, to rile each other up or just to say hi - they have a different kind of kiss for every occasion. But still this kiss is unlike any other kiss they’ve shared so far, and Kurt has to fight not to get overwhelmed by the sheer force Sebastian claims his mouth with.

“What was that for?” he asks, a little breathless, when they’ve finally pulled apart. “Not that I’m complaining...”

He smiles, his heart still thumping in his throat, and Sebastian shrugs.

“Just because,” he says, taking away what little remains of Kurt’s breath just with the way he’s looking at him. “Because today I met your chosen family and lived to tell the tale. Because I found you when I thought I shouldn’t even be looking anymore. Because you walked in on me leaving that day and refused to let me go.” He shrugs again. “Just because.”

“You know,” Kurt smiles, “you always say you suck at romance, but let me tell you a secret: I think you’re doing a pretty decent job.”

It earns him a chuckle and a kiss against his hair.

“Yeah, well... I try. I may have had a really good teacher, though.”

“Not Jolene, I hope?” Kurt jokes, and Sebastian laughs. Jolene was many things, but they both knew romantic wasn’t one of them. 

“No,” Sebastian says. “No, he-uhm...” He hesitates, as if he’s trying to decide what to tell Kurt, and then takes a deep breath. “He was the first man I ever fell in love with, actually.”

They’ve stopped swaying, and when Kurt looks up he can see Sebastian smile at him wistfully, almost apologetically.

“Wow...” he says. For all that Sebastian never shies away from talking about sex and how much of it he’s had over the years, Kurt has never heard him use the word ‘love’ in relation to anyone who wasn’t either Jolene or himself. “That’s... wow. How long were you two together?”

“Seven months and nine days,” Sebastian says after a short pause, “though I guess it depends when you started counting. But that’s... that’s how long I knew him.”

“Knew?” Kurt asks. “Did he...”

... _die_ , is what he almost asked. But there’s a sudden sadness to Sebastian’s demeanor that is in such great contrast to the way he’d said ‘love’ before, that makes that Kurt knows the relationship didn’t simply end - it broke. Which is exactly why he can’t finish his original question.

“It sounds like he meant a lot to you.”

“He meant everything,” Sebastian says softly, and then lets out a self-deprecating huff. “Until I went and ruined his life, of course.”

“Sebble...”

“No, I'm sorry,” Sebastian interrupts. “I- I shouldn’t have brought that up, I’m sorry. We’re on holidays, I coached my first baby to win a crawling competition -whatever Nic says, don’t believe him-, I was invited by the most beautiful man in all of New York to move in with him... So let’s not ruin a great night by digging up things from the past, okay?”

And really, what can Kurt do when Sebastian’s looking at him like that, eyes pleading and with the widest, fakest grin on his face?

“Okay,” he agrees softly. “You’re right. Can I just say one thing, though?” He pauses for a moment to make sure that Sebastian is actually looking at him. “Whatever the reason you two broke up... I'm glad. Because if you hadn’t, I might have never met you.”

The corners of Sebastian’s mouth curl up in a sad smile, and Kurt gently rubs his thumb over his cheek.

“And maybe one day, you can tell me that story, okay?”

For a split second, Kurt is convinced Sebastian is gonna say ‘no’, but then he nods, a little hesitant at first, and then more confidently.

“Maybe,” he says hoarsely. “Yeah... maybe I will.”

“Good.” Kurt smiles, standing up on his tiptoes to press a kiss against Sebastian’s forehead. “But it’s getting cold... and late... so how about we go inside and curl up in bed together?”

“That... sounds wonderful.”

Kurt smiles.

“Okay then... let’s go.”


	10. Chapter 9

“Come on, let’s go!”

“You’re an impatient little piece of shit, you know that?” Sebastian tells him as he emerges from the bedroom, a small backpack thrown over his shoulder.

“My - Sébastien - what a filthy mouth you have!” Pierre gasps, grasping at his heart in pretend shock. “You know, for an American you sure know how to curse in French.”

“Yeah, well, I have a good teacher,” Sebastian smirks, wiggling his eyebrows as he steps into Pierre’s personal space, crowding him up against the wall without even touching him. “He taught me some really good uses for that mouth of mine too, by the way.”

“Oh really, now?” Pierre teases, although his eyes darken when Sebastian leans in a little closer and drags the tip of his nose along Pierre’s jawline and further up over his cheek until he reaches Pierre’s ear.

“Really,” he whispers lowly. The word sends a visible shiver through the man below him, and for a second Sebastian’s sure Pierre’s going to give in, but even as a triumphant grin starts spreading across his face he feels himself being pushed back and spun around by the shoulders.

“If we’re gonna go there we could just as well stay home for the weekend,” Pierre tells him, grinning, and Sebastian shoots him a disappointed look over his shoulder.

“I really don’t see what would be wrong with that,” he pouts, “I can think of a lot of really nice things we could do staying home for the weekend.”

But Pierre just laughs, pushing him further into the hallway so he can close the door behind them.

“I’m sure you can,” he says. “But just think of doing all those things  _on the beach_.”

He winks, and Sebastian sighs as he follows him down the stairs.

“You do know that whole sex-on-the-beach-thing is terribly overrated, right?” he says. “Sand everywhere and trust me - you do _not_ want to get sand up your ass. It hurts. A lot.”

“Aaah… and here I was, thinking my boyfriend was the romantic in this relationship,” Pierre laments. “What a fool I was…”

“You’re an artist, I’m a scientist - it really shouldn’t have been that hard to figure it out,” Sebastian smirks.

They’ve reached the ground floor, and Sebastian is only just fast enough to catch the car keys Pierre throws at him.

“You take the first part of the drive,” Pierre tells him as he leads the way to the garage, “it’s like eight hours driving, we can switch every two to three hours or something, and we’ll be there by dinner time.”

“Wait - eight  _hours_?” Sebastian exclaims. “Bordeaux’s not eight hours from here!”

“It is when you want to avoid tolls,” Pierre smirks, “and it’s not Bordeaux, it’s like… 80km above Bordeaux.”

Sebastian just shoots him an appraising look.

“All the more reason why it shouldn’t take eight hours,” he says decisively. “We’re not avoiding tolls. And I’m the one with the keys so you don’t get to have a say on how we drive!” he quickly adds when it seems like Pierre is about to protest. “Don’t worry about it - I’ll pay.”

He unlocks the car, and Pierre’s heavy sigh is audible even as they get in.

“Well, he’s not romantic, but at least he’s rich,” Pierre mumbles to himself, just loud enough so Sebastian can hear it, and he jumps and squeals when Sebastian swats at him. “Then again, he’s kind of aggressive too, so that tips the balance to the wrong side again,” he continues, rubbing over his arm indignantly.

Sebastian turns his head to glare at him, but when he sees the familiar mischievous flicker in Pierre’s eyes he shakes his head.

“I don’t even know why I put up with you,” he sighs, and Pierre leans back in his seat, smiling smugly.

“Because you _adore_ me. Because _I_ adore  _you_.”

“For my money,” Sebastian retorts, and it earns him a playful laugh.

“It’s as good a reason as any,” Pierre grins as he buckles his seat belt. “Now, are we leaving or what?”

“Of course. Hold on tight: leaving for a romantic weekend at the beach in 3… 2… 1…” Sebastian turns the key in the ignition. “Allons-y!”

.

Even with toll roads it still takes them almost six hours to get from Paris to Les Mathes, the small village at the French coast where Pierre’s parents own a small beach house. They switch positions about halfway through, much to Sebastian’s dismay, because Pierre driving means Pierre choosing the music, and that in turn means a torturous three hours of French chansons. So when they finally turn onto a drive way and Pierre turns off the ignition, effectively silencing the radio, Sebastian is more than a little relieved.

“Well, we’re here,” Pierre says with a sigh, and Sebastian leans his head back against the headrest.

“Thank god.”

They smile at each other for a couple of seconds before Pierre breaks the moment and unbuckles his seat belt.

“Come on,” he says enthusiastically, slapping his hand down on Sebastian’s thigh, “let’s get you introduced!”

But Sebastian’s hand closes around Pierre’s wrist before Pierre can even think of moving.

“Wait-  _introduced_?” he asks suspiciously, his blood running cold in his veins. “Introduced to  _who_ , exactly?”

“Uh… parents? Brothers?” Pierre tells him, eyebrows frowned. “Come on, Sébas, you saw ‘Meet the parents’, didn’t you?”

“You mean your parents are here?” Sebastian hisses, unable to hide his panic, and Pierre turns in his seat, looking at Sebastian with an incredulous smile.

“ _Mon coeur_ , this is  _my parent’s house_. This is _where they live_. This is  _where I grew up_. How could you not expect my family to be here?”

“Because you said ‘beach house’!” Sebastian exclaims. “As in ‘holiday house’ or something, not as in ‘permanent residence that happens to be close to the beach’!”

“Please, do I look like I come from parents who have the money to afford two houses?” Pierre laughs. “ _Mon coeur_ , I’m sorry, I thought you realized...”

There’s a short silence before he reaches out to take Sebastian’s hand.

“Look... we can just go back if you want,” he says, “and I’ll tell my parents something came up and we couldn’t make it. Or we could go visit Bordeaux, I’m sure we could find a hostel or something for the weekend - I mean, we’ve driven this far already.”

It’s partly being said in jest, but at the same time it sounds sincere enough that Sebastian knows that Pierre means it, that he only has to say the word and they’ll turn around and go somewhere else. And it’s not so much that Sebastian doesn’t  _want_ to meet Pierre’s parents, it’s more that he feels very much put on the spot.

“I’m just.. really bad at meeting parents,” he admits, turning his head towards Pierre. “I accidentally hit Jo’s dad in the nads when we were playing soccer the first time I went over to her house. And the first time I saw her mom she literally started screaming. Which might have had something to do with the fact I was holding her daughter’s dick in the middle of the kitchen, but still.” He sighs. “That’s a 100% failure rate, you know.”

“My dad doesn’t play soccer,” Pierre assures him before he starts grinning. “And my mom has walked in on worse, believe me. Don’t worry about it, they’re going to adore you, promise.”

Sebastian shoots him a doubtful look, but then Pierre leans over to press a dry kiss against his lips and he closes his eyes.

“All right,” he says when Pierre pulls away again. “But if they don’t you’re doing the dishes for a month.”

“Two weeks.”

“A month,” Sebastian insists.

“Three weeks?” Pierre offers, but when Sebastian glares at him, he starts laughing. “All right, a month. So. You ready?”

Sebastian just nods.

Nerves aside, it’s a relief to finally get out of the car, and the fresh breeze brings with it the salty smell of sea and sand as it brushes coolly against Sebastian’s skin. Despite the fact that it’s already September, the late afternoon sun still provides quite a bit of heat, and the cries of seagulls flying over and children playing nearby only add to the holiday atmosphere.

The house in front of them isn’t all that big - a simple one-story bungalow with a garage and a small front porch. The paint from the woodwork around the door and windows is scaling off, and the front garden looks more like a miniature wild life reserve and less like an actual garden, but it appears cosy enough, and Sebastian doesn’t have any trouble imagining a younger Pierre running around this house, rolling around in the knee-high grass until his clothes were stained green beyond salvation.

He slams the car door shut behind him and immediately gets reprimanded by Pierre, who puts a finger against his lips to signal him to be quiet.

“Don’t say anything,” he whispers conspiratorially, his eyes twinkling in anticipation, “just watch.” And then, without any warning, he takes a deep breath and shouts on the top of his longs: “Jeaaaaaaaan!”

For a few long seconds, nothing happens, but then Sebastian can hear the padding of small feet and a small boy emerges from the wilderness of the garden, shooting right past Sebastian and straight into Pierre’s arms. The sheer force of it almost knocks Pierre over, but he manages to keep straight, and Sebastian watches in amazement as Pierre rocks the little boy, holding on to him as tightly as the boy is holding on to Pierre.

It soon gets clear the little boy has no intent to let go of Pierre anytime soon, and Pierre winks at Sebastian as he whispers something in the boy’s ear. Immediately, the boy perks up, eyes darting around until they catch sight of Sebastian, but then as quickly as he’d jumped up he hides his face again in the crook of Pierre’s neck, causing both Pierre and Sebastian to burst out laughing.

“Sorry, he can be a little shy,” Pierre says apologetically, turning around so that Sebastian can see a little more of the little boy’s face. “Jean, this is Sébastien I told you about. Sébas, meet my youngest brother, Jean-Paul. Or Jean for short.”

Jean lifts his head a little at that, to whisper something in his big brother’s ear, but when he sees Sebastian smile at him he promptly hides again against the other side of Pierre’s neck.

“You’re not allowed to call him Jean, he says,” Pierre passes the message along. “Don’t worry, he’ll change his mind soon enough. Oh - hey Gwen.”

Sebastian immediately spins around, only to find a sturdy-looking woman standing behind him, short and chubby and looking nothing like Pierre - except maybe in the way she’s letting her eyes trail over him.

“ _C’est lui, ton Américain_?” she says in a heavily accented French, and all the anxiety that had dissipated the moment little Jean had flung himself around Pierre’s neck returns in full force now that Sebastian finds himself under the scrutinizing gaze of this woman. “ _Il est mignon, je suppose, si c’est ça ton type de mec. Mais dis-lui de se raser sa moustache, ça ne lui convient pas._ ”

“That’s ‘my American’, yes,” Pierre sighs behind Sebastian, “and I told you to be nice to him. Also, be careful with what you say - his French has gotten rather good.”

“Ooh, an _educated_ American,” the woman says, seemingly not in the least bit bothered by her son’s warning, and then holds out her hand. “Gwendoline. I’m Pierre’s evil step mother.”

“Sébastien,” Sebastian replies shakily, trying to push down his nerves as he takes her hand, “Pierre’s angelic boyfriend. _Enchanté_.”

“Oh well, look at that - educated _and_ polite,” Gwendoline coos, and Sebastian can’t decide whether she’s actually impressed or just mocking him. “And funny too - not bad for a first boyfriend. I hope you’re not too hungry, though, your father hasn’t started dinner yet. We didn’t expect you for another couple of hours.”

“Yeah, well, we kinda left a bit earlier than planned,”  Pierre says, shooting Sebastian a warning look, “but we can make ourselves a sandwich or something, it’s fine.”

They follow Gwendoline through the house and out the back door, into a large garden that’s only marginally better kept then the front one. It’s not so much the garden but the terrace they head over to that worries Sebastian though. There are plastic sticks and connectors are strewn all over it, and he carefully tries to place his feet so that he doesn’t accidentally break them, or worse - trip over them and faceplant on the floor.

“That’s Jean’s rocket,” Pierre says, pointing at an unstable-looking construction that Jean indeed immediately runs to, almost knocking it over in his enthusiasm to continue his game. “He’s going to be an astronaut, see. And the little baby boy you see over there is Michel, my youngest brother. He’s eight. Months, I mean. And the guy who’s holding him is my dad, although you could probably tell that already.”

The man Pierre is pointing at indeed looks strikingly similar to him, though when he stands up to greet Sebastian it immediately becomes clear he’s quite a bit taller than his son - and a lot younger than Sebastian had been expecting.

“Good to meet you,” the man says as he holds out his hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you, young man. The name is Jacques, by the way.”

“Sébastien. I-uh... wish I could say the same but Pierre hasn’t really talked much about his family.”

Sebastian stutters his way through the sentence, feeling like his French has plummeted back to the level it was before he came to Paris, but Pierre’s dad doesn’t seem to mind.

“It would’ve surprised me if he had,” he smiles reassuringly. “In fact, I’m already stunned he appears to actually have talked to you at all, seeing as he was able to invite you here. Usually my son tends to rely solely on body language to get his point across, if you get my drift...”

“Don’t you think that’s big coming from you, dad?” Pierre responds sarcastically, clearly not in the least bit offended. “Or need I remind you that when you were my age you already had a ten-year-old son?”

“Need I remind you that said son is currently studying in Paris at one of the best art institutes in the world and has grown up a reasonably fine gentleman who unfortunately lacks any respect for the man who practically raised him on his own and clearly did a fine fucking job?” Jacques shoots back.

“You just keep telling yourself that, dad,” Pierre smirks, patting his dad on the back, and then turns to whisper at Sebastian: “I had a different nanny like every two weeks. He fucked all of them until he finally got his head out of his ass and married one.”

“A total lack of respect for his old man!” Jacques bellows, pretending to hit Pierre over the head and causing Pierre to actually hit _him_  over the head, and soon enough the two men are caught in a fight, trying to wrestle each other to the ground.

“Jacques if you drop my son I swear there’s going to be hell to pay!” Pierre’s step mother shouts from inside the house, and it takes Sebastian a moment to realize she’s not talking about Pierre but about baby Michel, who’s still sitting quietly on his dad’s arm even as Jacques tries to put his other son in a headlock.

“He’s my son too!” Jacques yells back distractedly.

“Then fucking _act like it_!” comes the swift reply. “Or do you want me to come out and _make_ you?”

Pierre and his dad let go of each other almost instantly, identical wide grins on their faces as they get in a few last punches and pats on the back, though it doesn’t escape Sebastian’s attention they both take a few seconds to check on Michel too, to make sure he indeed came out unscathed.

It’s a strange family, Sebastian thinks, where the parents swear even more than the kids and are less parents than they are friends, but he thinks he might get used to it. That is - until dinner preparations start. Because between Pierre and his dad taking on cooking duty and Pierre’s step mom realizing that she could get some cleaning done now she has an extra babysitter, Sebastian suddenly finds himself with one arm full of baby Michel, the other hand holding a lukewarm bottle of milk, and little Jean pulling at his pants begging for him to please come help with his rocket.

He’s not quite sure how he survives that hour, or the rest of the evening. Pierre’s half brothers seem to have made a pact to alternate their crying times, giving Sebastian no small headache, and it doesn’t help that even with how good his French has gotten it’s hard to follow the fast, juicy dialect of Pierre and his parents. So when the kids have finally been put to bed and Pierre suggests they go out for an evening walk on the beach, Sebastian is more than happy to escape the house even for just a little.

“Your family's pretty... _special_ ,” Sebastian finally opens the conversation after they’ve walked for a few minutes.

“Nice choice of words,” Pierre laughs, and then shrugs. “We might seem a little dysfunctional from time to time, but seeing how the whole thing basically hangs together with half blood lines and duct tape, I'd say we’re doing pretty good, actually. They’re good people, even if they take some getting used to - especially my step mom. She just... likes to rile people up.”

“So... does that mean I don’t have to shave my mustache then?” Sebastian asks, and Pierre shoots him an amused glance.

“You got that part, huh?”

“Not everything,” Sebastian admits, thinking back of the meeting with Gwendoline earlier that day, “your step mom talks really fast. But the way she said ‘moustache’ didn’t sound very positive.”

“Well, she wasn’t a fan,” Pierre chuckles. “She thinks you’re cute though.”

“She said that?”

Sebastian’s not sure whether to be amused or scared, and the dilemma must be visible on his face because Pierre starts laughing and then pulls him closer for a quick kiss.

“Don’t worry - she’s not gonna make a move on you,” he smiles. “She was just trying to annoy me because I asked them to be nice to you. You’ll have to forgive her, she was just terribly excited to finally meet ‘the boyfriend’.”

“So she wasn’t lying then?” Sebastian asks. “I really am the first boyfriend you’ve ever brought home to meet them?”

There’s a short silence, and Pierre bites his lip, looking down at where their naked feet are plowing through the sand before he dares meet Sebastian’s gaze again.

“Would it be really bad if you were?” he returns the question.

He’s got that look on his face again, that same look he’d worn when Sebastian had caught him call them boyfriends - apprehensive and nervous and just a little scared, and Sebastian pulls him in closer, pressing a kiss against his temple.

“Of course not,” he says reassuringly, and he can almost feel Pierre relax as he says it. “Just curious.”

“Good,” Pierre says smugly, instantly recovered. “Because Gwen’s pretty awesome and I didn’t want to have to resort to falsely accuse her of lying to protect my image.”

Sebastian laughs, and they continue walking in silence for a while, enjoying the feel of the sand running between their toes. A little further up the beach a father and his daughter are trying to launch a kite, but the soft breeze that’s carried across the ocean is too weak to make it take flight, and the toy falls nose-first back into the sand.

“I’m sorry this isn’t the romantic weekend you had thought it would be, with my parents and all… ,” Pierre suddenly breaks the silence, but Sebastian immediately cuts him off.

“Hey, don’t apologize to _me_ \- you’re the one who loves romance here, remember?” he quips. “Besides, look at us having a romantic beach walk at sunset!”

“Actually… I don’t think the sun sets for another hour or two,” Pierre teases, and Sebastian rolls his eyes.

“Great. See what happens when I try to be romantic?” He pouts. “I told you I was crap at it.”

But Pierre just laughs, weaseling himself out of Sebastian’s grip and skipping out in front of him.

“Come here,” he says mischievously, pulling Sebastian forward by his hands, “let the French guy give you a couple of lessons in romance.”

“Lessons in romance?” Sebastian repeats, his frown equal parts amusement and apprehension, and Pierre nods.

“Uhu,” he says earnestly. “Now, lesson number one: never lose sight of your partner.”

“All right,” Sebastian says, holding Pierre’s gaze as he allows him to pull him closer. “Stare into each other’s eyes. I think I can do that.”

“Lesson number two: always bring a gift,” Pierre continues, and Sebastian pulls an unhappy face.

“See, I’m already doing it wrong,” he sighs, “I got nothing to bribe you with.”

But Pierre simply cuts him off with a kiss, wrapping his arms around Sebastian’s neck as their mouths move against each other, tasting at the thin deposit of salt the wind has left on their lips.

“Lesson number two b,” he whispers, “the gift doesn’t have to be material.”

He pauses for a moment, giving Sebastian another quick peck, and it’s Sebastian who finally asks: “And lesson number three?”

“Lesson number three: when in doubt - dance!”

Pierre spins around at that, pulling Sebastian with him, twirling them ever faster until they almost trip over their own feet.

“Yes, I can definitely see how dancing could save any date,” Sebastian laughs as he tries to regain his balance. “Nothing more romantic than ending up in the ER together because someone broke a leg. Also - remind me to bring my mp3-player next time because this feels just slightly ridiculous.”

“Ugh,” Pierre curls up his nose in disgust. “I hate those things. There’s so much beautiful music surrounding us constantly, and people block it out, replacing it with the same uniformly horrible crap everyone else listens to.”

“Fair point,” Sebastian admits, “if we weren’t on a beach in the middle of nowhere with no music.”

“But there _is_ music!” Pierre exclaims. “There always is! Here, come here... close your eyes...”

He pulls Sebastian in until they’re pressed close together, gently swaying back and forth, and puts a hand over Sebastian’s eyes..

“Hear that?” he whispers. “Hear the crashing of the waves, the cawing of the seagulls, ... that’s the music, _mon coeur_ , it’s music if you’re willing to hear it.”

Sebastian pulls back, and as he looks at Pierre -his black hair messy as ever, hands fisting in Sebastian’s t-shirt, eyes shining with an intensity Sebastian could never have dreamed would one day be directed at him- he can feel his heart swell. He leans in for another kiss, and Pierre immediately melts into his touch, parting his lips to invite Sebastian in, letting himself be claimed by Sebastian’s mouth and lips and tongue.

They part sooner than Sebastian would have liked, but he can feel Pierre smile against his lips.

“I don’t wanna brag,” he whispers, “but you can’t deny my dancing brought us quite a bit closer together.”

“It most definitely did,” Sebastian admits, smiling, his eyes still closed, “I clearly have a lot to learn from you, master Jedi.”

But there’s nowhere he’d rather be, he thinks, than standing here on a random French beach, holding in his arms the boy -the _man_ \- he is so ridiculously in love with he knows he could never run away from him. Of everything he had hoped Paris would give him -a brilliant start of his scientific career, international friends from all over the world with couches he could crash on, and most importantly lots and lots of sex- this, _love_ , had been the last thing on his mind. 

“Why me?” he asks softly. “Why am I the first boyfriend you’ve brought home?”

Pierre seems surprised by the question, cocking his head as he pulls back a little to be able to look at Sebastian properly.

“Because you’re mine,” he says simply, as if he’s surprised he even has to clarify. “Because I’m yours.”

It’s clear he’s perfectly serious, but Sebastian can’t help but let out a small laugh.

“Oh yeah,” he says teasingly. “Mine. And Benoît’s. And Dominique’s. And Raphaël’s. And-”

“Hey, stop that!” Pierre places his fingers against Sebastian’s lips, cutting him off. “You know it’s not the same. It’s- it’s not the same for you, is it?”

For the second time that night he looks insecure again, and Sebastian immediately tightens his grip on Pierre’s waist.

“No,” he says determinedly, and his stomach twists when he sees Pierre close his eyes in relief for a moment. “No, it’s not the same. Not at all. Not even close.”

“Good,” Pierre tells him, glancing down for a moment. “Good. Because… those guys- they can have my body, you know, once in a while.” He takes Sebastian’s hand, places it over his own heart. “But this? _Mon coeur n’appartient qu’à toi_.”

Mon coeur n’appartient qu’à toi.  _My heart belongs _only_  to you._

Not ‘I really care about you’ or ‘you mean so much to me’ or even ‘I love you’. Sebastian has heard those words before, has even repeated them back to those who said them to him. And he’s meant them, every time. But there were always other people he really cared about too, other people who meant something to him, other people that he loved - it’s never been just the one person. How could it be, when there’s a world full of people to meet and know and love?

But now Pierre tells him that his heart belongs to Sebastian - and _only_ to Sebastian. Because he has only one heart to give away, and the fact that he trusts Sebastian with his means more to Sebastian than any declaration of love or a thousand ‘I love you’s ever could.

And he doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t even blink when he tells Pierre not only that his heart is safe with him, but that he also trusts Pierre with his own.

“ _Et le mien à toi._ ”

.

The rest of the weekend flies by, and after that first night Sebastian is surprised to see just how quickly and how seamlessly he becomes a part of Pierre’s family. He spends long hours playing with Pierre’s half brothers, especially the youngest one, and even longer ones hanging with Pierre on the beach. It’s nothing like the weekend Sebastian had thought they would have - it’s better. But the best part, at least as far as Sebastian is concerned, comes on Sunday evening, right before they have to head back, when Pierre hands him a small, white envelope.

“What’s this?”

“Open it,” Pierre encourages him. “Come on, I promise it’s not anthrax.”

It’s a picture - one of the many Sebastian had taken of the two of them on the beach. They look tough, or at least like they’re pretending really hard to look tough: Sebastian himself with his bandana and Pierre with his too-big glasses and attempt at a scruff - Sebastian had shaved off his own mustache the day before, much to Gwendoline’s amusement.

“I just... well, you know I’m a romantic,” Pierre says almost bashfully. “And I wanted to give you something you could remember this weekend by. Remember us. I thought you could... I don’t know, put it in your wallet or something. Or somewhere else. The bin, maybe. Anyway. It’s for you.”

Sebastian doesn’t even know what to say, and so he simply pulls Pierre closer for a kiss. His grin grows wider the longer he looks at the picture, though, because that’s _them_ \- that’s really _them_. Pierre has signed it too, he notices with a jolt of his stomach when he flips it around: M C A T; _mon coeur à toi_.

“Thank you,” he finally smiles, after another kiss. “Thank you... And don't worry - I’m pretty sure I can find a good place for this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who want to see some pics from their road trip, take a look at [this photoset](http://letmegiveyoumynumbah.tumblr.com/post/26782297097). The picture Pierre gave Sebastian is the top left one (and was, incidentally, the inspiration for this whole fic) (and yes, I'm aware that that's Grant and his brother).


	11. Chapter 10

“What’s the right place for this?”

Kurt is standing in the doorway of Sebastian’s room, holding up an African-looking madonna-with-child, and when Sebastian turns around he laughs.

“To-go pile,” he says. “Definitely.”

“Why?” Kurt asks a bit dumbly, looking the statue over. “It’s nice. I actually think it might fit in my living room.”

Sebastian shoots him a judging look.

“I got it off a blanket in Chicago,” he says amusedly. “It’s crap. But if you want it you can have it.”

“Nah...,” Kurt shakes his head. It’s really not _that_ nice a statue -he’d just tried to be a little... _forthcoming_ \- and he’s not sad to drop it in the big box that says “Thrift Store”. The box is still fairly empty so far, but to be fair that has more to do with the fact that Sebastian doesn’t keep many souvenirs or memorabilia in the first place than with the fact that he doesn’t easily throw away stuff. It makes for easy packing, and if they continue at this rate they will have Sebastian settled in in Kurt’s apartment - _their_ apartment, Kurt corrects himself with a flutter in his chest- before sunset. And so when he finally wraps the final glass in a sheet of news paper and puts it in the last box, Kurt decides he deserves a short break.

“You’re almost finished here?” he asks as he walks back into Sebastian’s room, settling down on the bed next to a few quite impressive piles of clothes, and then notices Sebastian. “Are you ok? You look a little... tense...”

“I’m fine,” is Sebastian’s distracted reply. He’s not snapping at Kurt, not quite, but he doesn’t really sound like he’s fine either. “I’ll be fine. Packing stress, you know how I get. But it’s just these two drawers, and then I’m done. That box is goodwill, but I’m taking everything on the bed. If you’ve got room for that?”

Kurt nods. He’s thrown out a lot of his own stuff in preparation of Sebastian’s moving in -although ‘a lot’ is obviously a relative term- and they’ve bought an extra dresser specifically for Sebastian’s things. It should all fit. And if it doesn’t... well, they can always get yet another dresser.

“What about these?” Kurt pulls at a plastic bag that’s sitting a bit forlornly on the night stand. “Goodwill as well?”

“No, that’s- don’t-”

“Oh. my god!” The pair of jeans Kurt has pulled out of the bag is skinny - the really skinny kind of skinny that was all the rage three or four years prior, and he gasps. “Are these yours? How did you even _fit_ in that?”

“Kurt-”

“Oooh... I like this jacket! Not sure about the combo with the t-shirt, though...” He sends Sebastian a judging look as he rummages further through the bag. “Passport... oh dear god, when was this picture taken? Just look at you being all pimple-faced and cute! And _your hair_!” He beams as he holds up the passport for just a second for Sebastian to see, pulling it back to give it another glance just as Sebastian reaches out for it.

“Kurt, just...”

“And a wallet! Ooooh, I love wallets - people keep their best secrets in their wallets. Let’s see... credit card... euros...” Kurt holds up each item as he finds it, too enthusiastic to notice how Sebastian is fidgeting, visibly restraining himself from snatching the wallet out of Kurt’s hands. “Oh, I do love euros, especially the notes. They’re so colorful, don’t you think? What’s this? _Le p’tit_...” He squints, trying to read the faded lettering on the card he’s holding. “ _Le p’tit... Marseillais_? Is that right?” He flips the card. “Aw, seems like it’s expired... that’s a free sandwich gone to waste! Where’s this from anyway? _Rue du matinée... Paris_ \- ooooh, are these things from when you were there?”

He’s bouncing up and down with enthusiasm - Sebastian’s habit of throwing out everything that isn’t strictly useful means that, of all the stuff he owns, there’s only barely a handful of things that are really and truly personal to him. Which in turn means that finding a bag with old things that, for some reason or another, Sebastian has deemed worthy of keeping, to Kurt feels like he’s unearthed some kind of treasure, a glimpse into a past that otherwise exists only in Sebastian’s head.

“Customer cards... more customer cards... plane ticket. March 9th 2019, Paris Charles de Gaulle to New York La Guardia. Wait, I thought you were there for Christmas? And- ooh! See, now this is where it gets interesting! Seducing French boys, were we?” He winks at Sebastian, but then realizes his mistake. “Oh no, that can’t be right, this looks like it was taken over summer... either way - beautiful beach, where was this?”

He holds up [the picture](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m6rfc9sHYC1qkz1ono1_500.jpg) for Sebastian to see. It seems to be a holiday picture of sorts, showing Sebastian looking straight into the camera, with next to him another guy wearing large, black sunglasses, and when Kurt waves it around teasingly he notices there’s something written on the back.

“M C A T,” he reads. “Signed P. What does that mean?”

But instead of answering Sebastian just snatches the picture out of Kurt’s hands and stuffs it back into the plastic bag, together with the clothes and the wallet.

“Nothing,” he snaps. “It means absolutely _nothing_ anymore.”

“... all right,” Kurt drawls, a bit apprehensively, trying to help by handing Sebastian the things he’d taken out of the wallet. “All right, just... calm down...”

“I _am_ calm!” Sebastian bellows. His own outburst seems to bring him back to his senses though, and he takes a deep breath as he runs his hands through his hair. “I’m sorry, I-... I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be taking this out on you. I just... I’d kind of forgotten I kept any of this and it brought back all these memories and god I don’t even know how I could forget I kept all this...”

He’s finally managed to put everything back in the bag and ties it up, looking at it as if it might burst open any moment and whatever bad memories it holds will jump out and drag him back into the past.

“Seb... Sebble, hey... come here.” Kurt tugs at Sebastian’s arm, and he needs to repeat his request a couple of times before Sebastian gives in and lets Kurt wrap his arms around him. “Hey, it’s fine, okay? It’s all gonna be fine.”

“No, it’s not!” Sebastian pulls back, eyes darting all over the room. “What the fuck am I doing, Kurt? Why on Earth are you letting me do this?”

“Do what?” Kurt asks, confused. “Comfort you? Seb, you’re my boyfriend, of c-”

“ _Exactly_!” Sebastian exclaims. “And I shouldn’t be! I shouldn’t be doing any of this! Being with you, _moving in with you_ \- christ, why did I ever let myself believe this was a good idea?”

“Because it is!”

It takes Kurt all the strength he has to get Sebastian to sit down, pry the plastic bag out of his hands, and shove it out of sight.

“Seb, just look at me, okay? Please, look at me?”

“Kurt, I can’t-”

“I know. I know - and you don’t have to." Kurt runs his hands up and down Sebastian's arms, trying to calm him down. "You don't have to do anything, okay? All you have to do is breathe. Can you do that for me? In... and out... Exactly. Just in... and out again...”

He keeps talking to Sebastian - until he doesn’t even know what he’s saying anymore, until Sebastian gets his breathing back under control and starts looking a little less like a deer caught in headlights, and Kurt takes his hands, rubbing his thumbs soothingly over the back of them.

“I’m sorry,” Sebastian finally manages. “I’m sorry, I don’t- I don’t even know what I’m doing here.”

“It’s fine,” Kurt tries to reassure him. “You’re fine. Do you... do you want me to get you a glass of water or anything?”

“Nah...” Sebastian shakes his head. “You’re right... I’m fine... I just... let’s just- finish packing here, okay?”

“Are you sure?” Kurt asks, scooting back to let Sebastian get up. “Maybe you should-”

“I’m _fine_ , Kurt,” Sebastian insists. To Kurt he still looks like a little lost lamb, but he has a feeling that forcing Sebastian to do anything right now will be counterproductive. And so he nods, hands Sebastian a cardboard box, and helps him to put his clothes in it.

He doesn’t let Sebastian get out of his sight anymore that day, though, even if Sebastian gradually seems to get back to his old, happy-go-lucky self. But this is the second time Sebastian had a freak-out after Paris came up, and Kurt’s not quite sure what he’s supposed to think. What he really wants is to ask Jolene about it - if anyone would know, it would be her. But that would mean going behind Sebastian’s back, and everything about that feels wrong.

They’re both exhausted when they finally make it to bed that night - their first official night together as flatmates. But the aches in their arms and their backs make that neither of them is very keen on the celebratory sex they’d promised each other, and so they just snuggle up against each other, simply enjoying each other’s proximity and trying not to think of all the unpacking that awaits them the next day. But while Sebastian quickly drifts off to sleep, Kurt remains wide awake. There are too many questions in his head, and not enough answers, and it’s only because he wakes up the next morning that he knows he hasn’t _literally_ been up thinking the whole night.


	12. Chapter 11

“So... I was up thinking last night...”

Pierre’s lying on his side on the bed, head resting on one hand while the other is drawing lazy patterns on Sebastian’s chest, and Sebastian turns his head to look at him, taking a deep draw from his joint before he replies.

“It didn’t hurt too much, did it?” he asks. “Because I never thought I’d say this but there’s only so much head I can kiss better in one day.”

“Oh grow up already,” Pierre says faux indignantly, and then proceeds to pinch one of Sebastian’s nipples, making him squeal. “Will you listen to me?”

“I’m listening!” Sebastian shoots Pierre a murderous look as he rubs over his painful nipple. “Look at me: I’m listening. I listen. I’m trying to listen but you’re not talking.”

“I would talk if you’d shut up,” Pierre replies matter-of-factly and Sebastian pushes himself up against the headboard, raising his hands in surrender.

“Please,” he says. “Talk.”

“Thank you,” Pierre says gratefully with a nod of his head, but instead of talking he turns onto his stomach, his fingers fiddling nervously with the pillow case. “So-uhm... I- well, I got my monthly test results back yesterday. And they’re- well, they were clean. Obviously. And it... it got me thinking. Because... well, obviously we need to keep safe when we’re seeing our boys, but... I just- I thought... I thought maybe we could... like... forego the safety procedures? Just between the two of us?”

“What, you mean like bareback?”

Pierre nods, the hope clear on his face, and Sebastian shakes his head decisively.

“No.”

“Wh-” Pierre pushes himself up on his knees, looking at Sebastian in confusion. “But why? I’m clean, you’re clean... don’t you trust me? Because I’d never do that with any of the boys, _mon coeur_ , I swear, I-”

“Hey, hey - calm down, all right!” Sebastian leans forward, pressing a soft kiss against Pierre’s lips. “Of course I trust you. I’d trust you with my life, you know that. But I’m not clean.”

“Excuse me?”

“I got HIV.”

For a good five seconds, Pierre just stares at Sebastian in astonishment, mouth opening and closing without any sound coming out, and Sebastian almost bursts out laughing at the comical sight.

“You-,” Pierre tries again, “I... I mean: what?”

“I’m HIV positive,” Sebastian repeats, taking a last draw from the joint before he pushes it out on the bedside table, and then turns back towards Pierre, who’s still staring at him. “What?”

“You’re positive.”

“Yeah.”

“And you didn’t think that’s something I needed to know?”

“Uhm, no?” Sebastian shrugs. “I mean, we’ve always been safe, what’s the difference if I _could_ have been positive or if I actually _am_?”

“What’s the...” Pierre brings his hands to his head, shaking it disbelievingly. “What’s the difference? You’re asking me what’s the difference?” He gets up from the bed, running his hands through his hair as he tries to find his words. “That you have freaking HIV!” he finally yells. “ _That’s_ the freaking difference! _Mon dieu_ , Sébastien, how can you just forget to mention that?”

“I didn’t forget,” Sebastian tries to explain. He’s used to being yelled at when he discloses, it’s one of the reasons why he’d stopped doing it in the first place, but he’d expected Pierre  of all people to be a little more... understanding. “And it’s not like I was purposefully hiding it from you or something... I just... I don’t know, I didn’t think it mattered?”

“Well, of course it matters!”

“Why?” Sebastian straightens himself, watching as Pierre paces around the room. “We’ve always been safe, _you’ve_ always been safe.”

“My safety is not the point here, Sébas!” Pierre exclaims. “I know we’re always safe - I was _there_. But I’m your _boyfriend_. I’m your boyfriend and I thought that meant something to you.”

“Of course it means something!” Sebastian exclaims, scooting closer to the edge of the bed to reach out to Pierre, but Pierre just pulls away. “ _Mon coeur_ , it means _everything_!”

“Oh really?” Pierre says challengingly, eyes squinting and his hands in his sides. “Then don’t you think maybe you should have mentioned the part where you’re suffering from a terminal illness?”

“I’m not-” Sebastian rolls his eyes. “I’m not suffering from ‘a terminal illness’ - jesus, Pépé, you act like I could drop dead any minute. It’s almost 2020, you know?”

“Yeah, well, newsflash for you: even in 2020 people will still be dying from AIDS.”

“Newsflash for _you_ : I’m not one of those people.”

“Sébastien!”

“ _What_?” Sebastian stares at Pierre, challenging him to say more, but nothing comes out. “See, this is why I didn’t say anything - people always make such a fuss about it when, really, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Oh no,” Pierre amends, raising his hands as he takes a step back. “Nono - _you_ don’t get to decide whether or not it’s a big deal, ok? Because it is to me. It’s a big deal - it’s a _huge_ deal, and I can’t believe you’re not seeing that.”

He storms out of Sebastian’s room and into his own, slamming the door behind him, and even though Sebastian immediately sprints after him he only reaches the door in time to hear the tell-tale sound of a turning key.

“Pépé!” He bangs on the door. “Let me in! Come on, don’t be like this... please... Please, _mon coeur_ , let me in, let’s talk about this... Pépé... please... let me in...”

But no matter how much Sebastian begs and pleads the door stays shut, and when the music starts, loud enough to drown out his calls, he sighs, dropping his head against the door.

He just doesn’t get it. He knows HIV was a big deal at the end of the last century, when it had only just been discovered and there was little to no treatment available, but this is the new millennium! He gets tested regularly, he is followed up closely, ... there is basically no way he’ll ever get actually sick. Which just leaves the issue of safe sex, but really, with the amount of casual sex he has he has to play it safe always anyway, not just to protect his partner but also himself. After all, HIV is not the only -nor the worst- STI to look out for. Plus - Pierre had admitted himself they’d always been safe.

And so he doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand why Pierre seems to try his best to be home as little as possible over the course of the next few days, or why he ignores Sebastian whenever they both do happen to be home at the same time. What he _does_ understand, however, is that it’s slowly driving him crazy, and when on the third day Pierre refuses to even try the mac’n’cheese Sebastian has made for dinner -granted, a bit burnt, but he’d tried, even remembered to use vegan cheese even though he hates it- he finally breaks - and calls Jolene.

He regrets his decision almost instantly when she spends the first ten minutes of their call yelling at him -‘ _You’re a selfish piece of shit, Sebastian Eric Smythe, and you don’t even deserve that I help you!_ ’- but once they’ve both calm down a little -because nobody’s calling him a piece of shit no matter what he has or hasn’t done- and actually talk... Sebastian still doesn’t understand. He does take away one thing from the conversation though: he’ll have to apologize. And then maybe -hopefully- Pierre will want to talk to him.

.

“Get out.”

Pierre enters the room, sliding his messenger bag onto the floor as he walks to his desk and sits down, and if he hadn’t said anything Sebastian could’ve just as well not have been there.

Well... so far so good, I guess, Sebastian sarcastically thinks to himself. Here goes nothing.

“I want to talk to you.”

“Oh look, it has deemed me worthy of telling me something!” Pierre says sarcastically, though he doesn’t turn around. “Well then - go on, don’t let me stop you: talk away. Just don’t expect me to listen.”

“I want to apologize.”

That seems to get Pierre’s attention, because even though he still refuses to look at Sebastian his hand stills, and when he nods Sebastian can feel the hope flare up in his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he says carefully, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier that I’m positive.”

But Pierre just huffs out a laugh, shakes his head and then continues whatever it was he was doing.

“Not good enough,” he says. “Not even close. Now get out.”

“No!”

They might end up fighting again, but Sebastian doesn’t care. This is the closest he’s been to Pierre in _days_ \- even just hearing Pierre’s voice again makes his insides burn with longing, and not even for sex. There’s no way he’s going to walk away from him now.

“You do realize we’re going to have to talk about this some day, right? We can’t just... live in the same apartment and ignore each other for the rest of the year!”

“I don’t see why not,” Pierre replies dryly, and Sebastian rolls his eyes.

“Yes, really helpful, thank you for your input,” he says sarcastically. “Never mind me trying to have an actual conversation here.”

“Hey, don’t look at me,” Pierre shrugs, “this whole situation is your fault, not mine.”

“Which is why _I’m_ trying to to do something about it, but _you’re_ not exactly cooperating!” Sebastian exasperates. “Look, Pépé, I get you’re upset and you’re angry with me, but don’t you think three days of silent treatment has been enough punishment for me? I mean, if you don’t tell me what I did wrong how am I supposed to make it right?”

“Seriously?” Pierre swivels around on his chair. “You’re seriously going to make this about the fact that _you_ feel like I’ve treated you unfairly?”

His eyes are blazing with barely withheld anger, his jaw set, but it’s the disappointment in his voice that really gets to Sebastian. But there’s no turning back now - the music has started and Sebastian has no choice but to face it.

“But don’t worry, _Sebastian_ ,” Pierre continues, emphasizing each syllable, and god Sebastian hates it when Pierre uses his American name. “I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you _exactly_ what my problem is with you. First of all - I’m angry. I’m angry because you’re a selfish little prick who doesn’t think about anyone but himself. I’m disappointed, because I thought you are a compassionate, honest human being when clearly - you’re not. And I’m _hurt_ , Sébas, I’m hurt because right now I feel like you don’t trust me.”

“ _Mon coeur_...”

“I’m not done yet!”

Pierre sniffs and wipes his nose on his sleeve, furiously trying to get rid of the tears that stream over his cheeks.

“But most of all I’m angry - I’m _furious_ , because it took you freaking _three days_ to come talk to me and it’s just... it’s like you don’t even care how I feel.”

“Of course I care!” With three large steps, Sebastian is kneeling in front of Pierre, and he reaches out to cup his face, wiping at his tears with his thumb. “ _Mon coeur_ , please... look at me. I’d never do something to hurt you, _never_. I’ve always been super careful, Pépé, I promise - I know what I can and can’t do, I’m not taking any risks; not with anyone and definitely not with you.”

“Are you talking about sex now?” Pierre asks incredulously, wiping at his cheeks again. “Do you really think that’s what this is about? _Mon dieu_ , Sébas, I can’t even _believe_ you right now!” He traces his hands through his hair in desperation and then presses the heels of his hands against his eyes. “I _know_ how careful you always are, Sébas, I’m usually there when we fuck, remember? And I know you’re careful with the boys as well, do you really think I would’ve proposed going bareback if I didn’t completely trust you’d always be safe?”

“Uhm... no?” Sebastian replies unsurely, because if it’s not about sex he really doesn’t know why Pierre is still so upset.

“No,” Pierre confirms with a sigh. “ _Mon dieu_ , I’m really going to have to spell this out for you, aren’t I? Okay... tell me: why didn’t you tell me you are positive?”

“Because I didn’t think it was important? Or like, relevant?”

“And why exactly did you classify that particular tidbit of information as ‘not relevant’?”

There’s a certain exasperation in Pierre’s tone, and Sebastian hesitates. He’s glad he's finally gotten Pierre to talk to him, but right now it feels like he’s being quizzed without knowing what he’s supposed to have studied, and he’s terrified of giving the wrong answer.

“Because... it doesn’t have anything to do with you?” he tries. “Because it’s my problem, not yours. Well, I mean, it’s not a problem, it’s just something I need to keep an eye on. Like... like you know how they say when you got a mole, you don’t need to worry so long as you check it once in a while to see it hasn’t grown or anything? And only if it does you should have surgery? It’s like that. HIV is my mole.”

“Okay,” Pierre says slowly. “So... if I had an invisible mole, and I didn’t tell you about it, you wouldn’t be offended?”

“Of course not,” Sebastian says immediately, although the thought of Pierre having a congenital skin defect that could very well be malignant makes him feel queasy. “I mean... I don’t think so.”

“And if that mole turned out to be skin cancer and I had to have treatment, I wouldn’t have to inform you, would I? Because _I_ would be the one needing surgery, not you, so it wouldn’t really affect you, would it? As long as I’d let you know you’d have to take care of your own dinner that evening, of course.”

“I... guess?”

“I’d probably go home to my parents for a few days," Pierre continues. "I mean, I wouldn’t want to burden _you_ with taking care of me after an operation that is entirely _not your problem_ because what kind of a boyfriend would I be then?”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Sebastian says quietly. “Taking care of you. I know I’m not the greatest cook but I can make soup. And breakfast. I’m pretty sure I can find that shop where you get that stuff you use for eggs.”

“It’s called tofu,” Pierre says with a smile, “just for future reference. And that’s really sweet, but you really don’t have to do that. It’s _my_ mole, _my_ surgery, _my_ problem. I can handle it. And I don’t need to tell you when I’m declared cancer-free, either because that’s _my_ victory to celebrate. And neither do I need to tell you how I’d be scared everyday it might come back, because that’s _my_ burden to carry.”

“But I-”

“-feel like that sounds like I don’t trust you to take care of me? Like I’m excluding you from parts of my life? Like I’m not taking how you might feel or what you might want into consideration at all?”

“Pépé...”

“Because if you do you got entirely wrong,” Pierre continues sweetly. “I am merely keeping my problems to myself, see?”

“All right!” Sebastian’s hand shoots out almost of its own accord to close over Pierre’s mouth. “All right, I get it! But I’m not gonna _need_ surgery, I’m not _actually_ gonna get sick - this doesn’t need to have any impact on either of our lives.”

“Promise me that,” Pierre challenges him. “Only you can’t, can you? One day your body is going to lose the battle and you’re going to have to start taking drugs, and unless science has made some giant leap I’m not aware of, they still have to be taken with a meal at the same time every day. Which means we’ll have to organize our lives around that, and I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but we don’t exactly have a very regular lifestyle now. So one way or another, sooner or later, it _will_ have an impact, Sébas, no matter how much you’re trying to deny it to me or to yourself, and if nothing else I would’ve just really appreciated a heads up.”

There’s that disappointment again, and as if that’s not enough to feed Sebastian’s growing feeling of guilt it’s as if Pierre’s last words have finally switched on a light bulb in Sebastian’s brain. And suddenly he gets it - really _gets_ it. That it hadn’t been so much about the fact that he’s positive and everything that comes with it, but rather because he simply didn’t tell. That it hadn’t been because Pierre didn’t want to deal with an HIV positive boyfriend, but because he _wanted_ to deal with it - because he wanted to be allowed to be there for Sebastian if he needed him. But most of all that it had been because by not telling Pierre something Sebastian had decided was irrelevant, he’d taken away Pierre’s right to make up his own mind.

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out, trying and failing to hold back his tears. “I’m sorry for not telling you when we got together. I’m sorry for not considering your anger justified. I’m sorry for making you feel like I didn’t care. I’m sorry. I’m just... I’m so, _so_ , sorry.”

“I know,” Pierre tells him, kissing him softly. “I know. And I accept your apology. _Mon coeur à toi_.”

" _Mon coeur à toi,_ ” Sebastian replies, but when he looks back up at Pierre his his face has turned serious again, and he takes Sebastian’s hand.

“Can I just... can I ask you one thing?” he asks, and Sebastian nods. Pierre could ask him anything right now and he’d do it ten times over. “If- and I’m saying _if_ here, not when, god forbids I ever lose you but... _if_ something ever goes wrong between us... and you meet someone else... promise me you’ll tell him.”

“But-”

“Promise me, Sébas. I know you - you won’t tell him first because you won’t know how much he means to you, and then when you do you won’t tell him because you’ll think it’s too late and you’ll see a repeat of the past couple of days, but without the happy ending. So promise me. If there’s ever anyone else who you’re proud to call your boyfriend... promise me you’ll tell him.”

“ _Mon coeur_...”

“Promise me.”

And so Sebastian nods, croaks out “I promise.”, and hopes Pierre hears how much he hopes he’ll never have to keep that promise.

And when he finally dares meet Pierre’s eyes, Pierre is actually smiling at him. Five minutes ago Sebastian would’ve probably grinned back, pulled Pierre over to the bed and showed him just how happy he is their fight is over, but now, with his newfound revelation still fresh on his mind, all he can think of is how lucky he is to have found this man, and how incredibly blessed he is to be allowed to call him his boyfriend. And in that moment he swears he will never, _ever_ , do anything to hurt this man ever again.

“You’re looking way too serious for someone who just made up with his boyfriend after a three-day fight, you know?” Pierre pulls him out of his thoughts, giving Sebastian a little push against the shoulder, and Sebastian gives him a crooked smile.

“I just... feel like a jerk,” he says and Pierre laughs, lifting his chin with two fingers.

“That, _mon coeur_ , is called knowing yourself,” he teases, “and I’ve been told it’s the source of all wisdom.”

“Asshole,” Sebastian says, but his voice lacks snark and he can’t hold back a smile.

“Impossible,” Pierre says sweetly. “You see, I’ve also been told that opposites attract, and right now I am really, _really_ attracted to you...”

He’s letting his hands ghost over the front of Sebastian’s shirt, teasing with his fingers along Sebastian’s waistband, and Sebastian shakes his head in amusement.

“You really were serious when you said you didn’t care about the sex, were you?”

“ _Mon coeur_ , please... ,” Pierre whines, “if you want more making up I promise we can do it later, but I haven’t touched your dick in three days and I just really missed you, okay? So from one horny man to another... please-please-please have sex with me tonight?”


	13. Chapter 12

“Well, _someone_ had sex last night!” Jolene whistles as soon as Kurt joins her at their table, and he immediately feels his cheeks flush red.

“Shut up!” he hisses at her, looking around furiously to see whether anyone else has heard it. “And I did not! Why would you even say something like that?”

But Jolene just laughs.

“Oh girl - I’ve seen enough people come out of Sebastian’s bedroom to know how someone looks like after he’s done with them. And he most certainly did _something_ to you.”

She winks, and Kurt feels his blush deepen even further, glancing around once more before he gives in.

“We didn’t- I mean, it wasn’t-... it was just a blow job, all right? And he... ,” he swallows, “he let me touch him. Happy now?”

“Oh yes!” Jolene beams, squealing and clapping her hands. “Absolutely, more than happy. So tell me! How did it go? Was it worth the wait?”

“That’s-” _none of your business,_ is what Kurt really wants to say, but his mind seems all too eager to conjure up memories of the previous night - the soft moans of Sebastian as he sunk down on Kurt’s condom-free cock, the sweet-salty taste of his skin, the feeling of his thick, wet lips clenching around Kurt as he came, ...

“-yeah,” he all but groans, trying to ignore Jolene’s little chuckle. “Yeah, it was worth the wait. It’s... _god_ , you’d expect him to be out of practice after being single for so long but nope.”

To his surprise Jolene bursts out laughing, and it only gets worse when he shoots her an indignant look.

“ _What_?”

“Nothing,” Jolene hiccups, “nothing at all. Sebastian’s right, though - you are _adorable_.”

“What- _why_?” Kurt asks, equal parts angry and indignant. “What did I do?”

“Nothing,” Jolene says, though she can’t seem to stop giggling. “It’s just really cute how you equal ‘being single’ to ‘not having sex’.”

“Look, I know that Sebastian had a bit of a reputation when he was young, but-”

“Oh honey,” Jolene interrupts him, putting her hand over his. “You’re wonderfully naive, but I can assure you Sebastian hasn’t gone without sex for longer than a week ever since he and I discovered the wonderful world of mutual masturbation, regardless of which kind of reputation he has or hasn’t built for himself these days. If I had a dollar for each morning I had breakfast with one of his conquests, I’d be a rich girl.”

“You- _what_?” Kurt splutters.

“Now I’ll admit: he’s become quite a bit pickier the last couple of years, but still, it became suddenly very quiet at our place after he met you, I can tell you that. Don’t get me wrong, of course - you’re a wonderful guy and I couldn’t be happier Sebastian found you, but I do miss some of the regulars sometimes, you know?”

Kurt is speechless, his mouth opening and closing as he tries to process what Jolene is telling him, tries to figure out an appropriate response, but all that comes out is: “Awkward.”

“What?” Jolene looks up at him, a little confused. “Nono, not awkward at all! Most of them are actually really nice guys - like James -he live upstate, so he usually spent the night-, he always helped with the dishes. Although I admit back when we were still dating it _did_ get awkward sometimes - for the other guy, I mean. I was always upfront about it before I took anyone home -honesty and all that, you know?- but Sebastian usually didn’t give a crap, so his boy would come stumble out of his room the next morning and see Sebastian kiss me and god- their _faces_ sometimes! I remember one time this- what? Kurt? Kurt, what’s wrong?”

But Kurt just shakes his head, trying to wrap his head around the implications of what Jolene is telling him, and if it wasn’t for Jolene keeping both his hands in a tight grasp he probably would’ve ran off.

_Sebastian’s a cheater. That’s why he didn't want to have sex with me - because he didn't need it. He’s a liar and a cheater and he’s probably cheating on me right in this moment_.

The mantra repeats over and over in his mind, and even though he sees Jolene’s mouth move, he doesn’t seem to be able to take in anything she’s saying to him, until-

“Kurt, he didn’t cheat on you. I promise you - he’s not cheating on you. Do you hear me?”

“He cheated on _you_.” Kurt almost chokes on the words, the edges of his mind and his vision blurry as he tries to focus. “He _cheated_ on you.”

“No, he didn’t,” Jolene says, and Kurt feels the sudden urge to start laughing. Because she told just him herself, hadn’t she? She just told him how Sebastian routinely slept with other people - _people,_ plural, Kurt thinks, and his stomach churns- while they were dating.

“But he-”

“He didn’t cheat, Kurt,” Jolene insists. “God, I thought you knew all this already - remind me to kill Sebastian next time I see him.” She sighs. “Okay, Kurt... what did Sebastian tell you about me? About our relationship?”

“Y-you were roommates at Dalton,” Kurt stutters, “and then you dated for like, two years or so. Until- until you came out.”

“He didn’t say anything about the nature of our relationship, or about how it started?”

Kurt shakes his head. He really doesn’t see what that has to do with anything, but he’ll take it if it can distract him from the fact that Sebastian is currently somewhere out there cheating on him.

“You know what Sebastian’s reputation was, right?” Jolene starts. “That he slept around a lot?”

Kurt nods, and she continues.

“I was one of the people he slept with. And, well, you went to Dalton too, you know the population of gay students there is slightly above average. And I’m not gonna lie - I’m pretty sure Sebastian slept with almost every single one of them at one point or another during those four years, but even so I can assure you the only reason he was getting laid even semi-regularly was because he was going out to Columbus every weekend.

“Until we became roommates junior year, that is. I mean, we were both sixteen, horny, and eager to experiment, and we got along great. So we started hanging out a lot, going out together, ... and before we knew it we became this... thing. Seb-and-Joe. We were best friends having sex, but to everyone else we were high school sweethearts. Initially we just went along with it for funsies, but then it kind of... stuck.

“But we didn’t change. And Sebastian especially - he loves the challenge of the chase, he loves variety. So we still went out together. Only we usually didn’t go home together. Kurt, do you understand what I’m trying to tell you?”

“That you were okay with Sebastian cheating on you?”

“He had _permission_ , Kurt,” Jolene says, a strange sense of urgency to her tone. “It wasn’t cheating; cheating means breaking the rules, but there was no rule to break. So yes, he slept with other people, but so did I. He never cheated on me, Kurt, he would never cheat on _anyone_.”

And as Jolene talks suddenly it all clicks together in Kurt’s head - Sebastian flirting with everyone, Hunter telling Blaine how much Sebastian loved dick, Sebastian completely unbothered about the idea of Kurt cheating on him, Jolene telling him how Sebastian was trying to change...

“Has he... has he ever had a real relationship?” he asks meekly. “Before me?”

But Jolene shakes her head.

“I don’t think it’s fair to not call them ‘real’,” she says. “Sebastian has had lots of different relationships with lots of different people, sometimes at the same time. Some were based solely on sex, others were based on love. So to answer your question: no, you’re not Sebastian’s first serious boyfriend.”

“But I _am_ the first one he’s...” _he’s not cheating on_ , Kurt wants to say, but he manages to catch himself just in time. “I am the first one he’s exclusive with.”

Jolene’s silence is answer enough, and Kurt drops his head into his hands. Learning that Sebastian had HIV had been hard, and even if Kurt was mostly ok with it now, there wasn’t a day passing by that he didn’t worry about it - what he would do if despite their precautions he did get infected, what would happen if Sebastian stopped responding to the drugs. But as far as Kurt is concerned the advantages of dating Sebastian -such as, well, _dating Sebastian_ - far outweigh the disadvantage of Sebastian being HIV positive, and no matter how frustrated he gets sometimes, so far he hasn’t regretted going after Sebastian for even a moment.

But that was _his_ choice, _his_ predicament. Being picked by Sebastian for an experiment on monogamy was not a choice - it was a curse. 

“Why?” he asks. “Why me?”

“I already told you,” Jolene replies with a smile as she takes his hand. “You’re special. It’s a good thing.”

But Kurt shakes his head. He knows that if you’d told his high-school self he’d be the one to tie down a guy who’d made a sport out of sleeping with as many people as possible he’d probably have blushed and dismissed it, and then spent hours fantasizing about how romantic it would be if a guy did that for him. But now that it’s a reality, it doesn’t feel romantic at all, and it certainly doesn’t feel like ‘a good thing’. After all Kurt can count the number of boyfriends he’s had on one hand, and he’d still have enough fingers left to add his one-night-stands to it, so how did Sebastian expect him to fill the shoes of not just one boyfriend, but a whole string of lovers too?

And no matter how many times Jolene tells him how special he is and not to worry about it -she’s in a monogamous relationship now, too, after all, and she’s doing just fine, isn’t she?- he can’t shake the weight of Sebastian’s expectations of him and what’s worse, it starts making him incredibly jealous. Because now every time Sebastian flirts, instead of just brushing it off as Sebastian being, well, _Sebastian_ , all Kurt can think is: "You want this guy. You pretend like it’s just fun and games, like you’re just goofing around and having fun but you’re not. You want him. Because all you have is me and it’s not enough."

.

It takes exactly one week after his conversation with Jolene before Kurt cracks, after Sebastian decides to pop in at the flower store during their walk home and Kurt is forced to not only watch Sebastian flirt with his favorite clerk, but to also see the clerk flirt back. 

“You want him, don’t you?”

He slams the door behind him as soon as they’re both in the apartment, and Sebastian turns around in surprise.

“What?”

“The guy from the flower shop. You want him.”

But Sebastian just looks him up and down curiously, and then turns to take a vase out of the cupboard.

“I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about now.”

“Jolene told me, you know,” Kurt persists. The more Sebastian tries to deny it the more he’s convinced he’s right, and it makes him want to throw things or curl up and cry both at the same time. “She told me about the two of you. About how you weren’t... _exclusive_.”

He spits out the word, but Sebastian isn't impressed.

“So?”, he says barely even looking up, arranging the flowers Kurt already knows he’ll throw out on the first opportunity he has. “I wasn’t aware that was such a secret.”

“And yet you never told me.”

“Oh, pookie, come on,” Sebastian sighs, placing his hands on either side of the vase in front of him and finally -finally- looking Kurt in the eyes. “You knew Jolene and I dated for most of our junior and senior years. It’s been brought up on numerous occasions I was sleeping around a lot in high school. I really thought you’d have put two and two together by now. Besides, that was like ten years ago - why exactly are you bringing this up now?”

“Because you want him!” Kurt repeats angrily. “Because _apparently_ you’ve grown bored with me and you want to have a little bit on the side.”

“Wo-wow!” Sebastian’s eyes widen in shock, and he stares at Kurt incredulously. “Where the hell did _that_ suddenly come from? I’m not _bored_ by you, why would I even-”

“Then tell me you’re not attracted to him,” Kurt challenges him. “Tell me!”

“Kurt, I don’t even _know_ the guy!”

“As I understand it that’s never stopped you before,” Kurt says sarcastically. “So tell me. Are you attracted to him or not?”

“Kurt...”

“Are you or are you not!”

“All right, _fine_!” Sebastian exasperates. “He’s a trained ballet dancer and he’s _Asian_ , Kurt, how can you _not_ be attracted? Now can we put this to rest, please?”

“No, we _can’t_! My boyfriend wants to cheat on me, I really think we should talk about that.”

“What?!” Sebastian’s eyes almost pop out of his head. “How did you just go from an innocent flirt to _cheating_?”

“Because you admitted you’re attracted to other guys!”

“But I’m not gonna- sjeesj, will you calm down already?” Sebastian sighs in exasperation, dragging his hand through his hair. “God, I knew I shouldn’t have said that.”

“So why did you?”

“Because I didn’t see a reason to lie about it? Kurt, please - I love you, I chose you, I’m here with you, why is this even an issue?”

Maybe Jolene was right - maybe Kurt was simply naive. For months he’d seen Sebastian flirt with basically everyone who came within talking distance, but still, to him, it had never been about sex. It probably had to do with the way he’d met Sebastian, with how, even if Sebastian had initiated the flirting, in the end Kurt had been the one to go after _him_ , not the other way around. And so to Kurt, Sebastian’s flirting has always been more about wanting to push people’s buttons -by either being exceptionally crude or uncomfortably intimate- rather than about having any actual interest in them, romantic or otherwise.

But now he knows - that Sebastian isn’t as indifferent to the people he flirts with as Kurt had always assumed; and the obvious consequence of that is that now every guy Sebastian has ever flirted with has turned from just a fool who gave them free dessert into a threat to their relationship. And the way Sebastian is trying to reassure him is really only oil on the fire of Kurt’s anger.

“Look, Kurt, I’m really not sure what you expect from me here,” Sebastian tells him. “I’m a healthy 26-year-old, _of course_ I’m attracted to other guys. I really don’t see what the problem is.”

“The problem is _you’re attracted to other guys_!” Kurt exasperates, because how can Sebastian not see the problem when it’s right in front of him?

“But I’m not _doing_ anything with it!” Sebastian counters. “Isn’t that the whole point of this kind of relationship? You still have feelings and urges but you don’t talk about them and you don’t act on them and instead feed the other sweet lies about how they’re the only one?”

“Of course not!” Kurt exclaims, appalled. “The point is _you don’t have those feelings and urges anymore_!”

“Bullshit!”

The word thunders through the apartment, and if Kurt weren’t so invested in the discussion he’d probably be worried about the neighbors.

“Are you really telling me that while you were dating one guy you never, not once, looked at another man and thought: well if I were single, I’d tap that,” Sebastian asks challengingly. “Is that really what you’re telling me, Kurt? Because if it is, you’re a big fat liar.”

“I-” Kurt starts, but it’s as far as he gets. Because of course he’s thought other men attractive - he isn’t blind, or insensitive.

“Exactly,” Sebastian says flatly, without the smugness Kurt expected. “So would you please get off my ass when at least I have the balls to be honest about it?”

“But it’s not the same!” Kurt exclaims. “Yeah, sure, I can see a guy and appreciate his looks but I don’t plan on actually _sleeping_ with him.”

“And what makes you think I do?” Sebastian asks, his voice suddenly sharp as a knife. “Because I flirt? Because I don’t make a secret of how much I love sex? I made a promise, Kurt, I made a commitment. To you. Just like Blaine did, just like any of your other past boyfriends did. But apparently my promise is worth less than theirs simply because it’s the first time I make it, and honestly? I don’t think that’s fair.”

There’s more than just a hint of disappointment in Sebastian’s voice, but that’s not the only reason Kurt cringes. Because the reference to Blaine’s promise stings, and the fact Sebastian didn’t know he’d broken it only partly soothes the ache. And then there’s another thing...

“So it really is true then, huh? That you’ve never had a rea-... that you never had a monogamous relationship before.”

Judging by the indignant look Sebastian shoots him he noticed Kurt's near slip-of-the-tongue, but he doesn’t comment on it.

“So what if I haven’t?” he asks instead, just this side of defensive. “I’ve seen enough romcoms to know how this thing works, Kurt, I know the rules and I’m perfectly capable of sticking to them, thank you very much.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Kurt says - _lies_ , because of course that’s what he meant. How could it not be, when Sebastian had just admitted he was attracted to other guys besides Kurt and then in the same breath confirmed he’d never had a reason not to give in to that attraction before? “I just don’t understand why you never told me this. I don’t understand why you never-”

“-asked you to open up our relationship?” Sebastian finishes the question, and for the first time since they got home there’s genuine amusement on his face. “Come on, sunshine, let’s be honest here: would it have been an option for you?”

The way he looks at Kurt is almost defiant, and Kurt hates that he’s right. Because of course it wouldn’t have been an option -it still _wasn’t_ an option- and it only serves to make their current discussion even more complicated.

“But you barely even have sex with _me_ ,” he shoots back. “And you know I would gladly give you more if you only asked for it, so why would you even need other people? Besides, I don’t see what you would even do with a one night stand when it takes you four months to trust me enough to blow me.”

“First of all - it’s not a question of not having enough sex,” Sebastian says with the impatience of someone who's had to explain this far too many times. “Second - that had nothing to do with not trusting you and everything with wanting to keep you safe. Which seemlessly brings me to my third point, because I don’t have to worry about keeping anyone safe when my partner’s positive too, now, do I?”

“So then why _me_?” Kurt insists. “Why are you even bothering with me when apparently I’m a nuisance to have sex with and I won’t even let you get it somewhere else?”

“Because you’re the first guy in four years who made me _feel_ something!” Sebastian suddenly bursts out. The look in his eyes is almost haunted, all desperation and none of the sparkle that Kurt’s so used to seeing there, and so he watches, speechless, as Sebastian drags his hands through his hair before he turns back to him.

“You’re the first guy who pushed back, the first guy who didn’t let me run away, no matter how hard I tried. You have no idea what that meant to me, Kurt, that someone like you thought someone like me was worth running after. And you made me believe maybe it was worth it - that maybe having you was worth giving up the boys.”

“And was it?”

It’s a fair question, but that doesn't mean Kurt's not afraid to ask it - it seems like so much depends on the answer, and Sebastian must feel it too, because with three big strides he’s right in front of Kurt, taking his hands in his own and holding his gaze.

“ _Yes_ ,” he says -clearly, deliberately- and then brings up their hands to press a kiss against them. “Every smile, every kiss, every touch - it is worth every single second you call yourself my boyfriend.”

“So... you’re ok with us not being... _open_ , then?” Kurt asks, but to his disappointment Sebastian sighs and drops his head, pressing another kiss on their intertwined hands before he lets go and walks away.

“You should know better than to ask questions you don’t want to know the answer to,” he says.

“Sebble...”

“What do you want to hear, Kurt?” Sebastian asks, spinning around. “That it’s easy? That you’re the love of my life and I’ve seen the light and I’m just... breezing through this monogamy thing like it’s nothing? Because I’m really sorry but it doesn’t work like that, not for me, and to be completely honest with you: sometimes it really, really sucks. But then I wake up next to you, and you look at me and kiss me good morning and you make me feel like the luckiest man alive, and I choose you. Not some hot flower shop guy. Not that cute waiter at the Pancake Factory across the street. You. Pills and complications and frustrations included. I. choose. _you_.”

It must be the weirdest declaration of love Kurt has ever had directed at him. Not that he has a habit of having men -or women, for that matter- declaring his love to him, but still - if he did he’s pretty sure this one would take the cake.

It doesn’t mean he knows how to respond to it, though - what to do or say. He likes to think he has a rather stellar ability to read people, and he feels like he’d know if Sebastian was lying to him - which he doesn’t really think is the case. But too much has been said, too big revelations have been made that Kurt just needs to think over, assess, and evaluate.

Most of all, though, he needs fresh air.

He doesn’t say a word as he turns around and grabs his coat, doesn’t listen to Sebastian calling after him as he leaves the apartment.

“Kurt? Kurt, come back! Kurt - where are you going?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to make an extra comment one of Sebastian's quotes: "I don’t have to worry about keeping anyone safe when my partner’s positive too, now, do I?"
> 
> While in reality positive partners usually do not bother with safe sex (and it is, in fact, a very common 'solution' to not wanting to use condoms), theory dictates they still should. Because there are different strains of the virus, 'superinfection' (a second infection with the same/a different strain on top of the existing one) may lead to the development of multiple resistant strains. So while I do realize it might be read as "when having sex with a positive person I do not need to worry about safe sex", it was intended to say "when having sex with a positive person I do not need to worry about possibly seroconverting them". As problematic as superinfections _can_ be, there is still a difference (especially mentally) compared to seroconversion.  
>  My headcanon for Sebastian is (obviously) that he still practices/d safe sex even with positive partners, but in an argument there is little room for subtlety and nuance, and so I ended up with the ambiguous sentence above.


	14. Chapter 13

“Where are you going?”

“Movies,” Sebastian replies absently, checking himself in the mirror.

“Dressed like that?” Pierre asks from where he’s sitting in the couch, eyebrows raised as he gives Sebastian a once-over - the dress shoes, the carefully pressed pants, the stylish button-up. “You look like you’re going to a wedding or something.”

“I like nice clothes, so sue me.” Sebastian looks himself over. “Or would you rather I go in your ratty jeans and high school gym shirt?”

“You love that shirt,” Pierre pouts, and Sebastian laughs, hugging him over the back of the couch.

“Only because it has holes in it, _mon coeur_ ,” he hums, “gives me the most wonderfully teasing views of your abs.”

He slips his hands under Pierre’s shirt, trailing his fingers over said abs to further underline his words, and his touch elicits a soft moan from Pierre, who lets his head fall back in enjoyment, eyes closed, and Sebastian can’t resist pressing a few open mouthed kisses against the soft, tanned skin of his exposed neck.

“Do you really have to go?” Pierre mumbles. “You could do so much good here...”

“I’m sure I could,” Sebastian says amusedly, “but João has already bought the tickets, so...”

“João?” Pierre stiffens in Sebastian’s arms. “Your colleague?”

“No - the one in my French class,” Sebastian says, pulling back a little so he can look at Pierre. “You met him at Le Boy three weeks back, remember? Black, short curly hair, tongue piercing, ...”

“Yeah, I remember him,” Pierre says curtly, promptly pulling himself free of Sebastian’s embrace. “You took him to Orsay last weekend, and on that clubbing trip on La Seine the weekend before that.”

“Are you-” Sebastian frowns as he straightens himself. “Are you jealous?”

“What?” Pierre shoots him an indignant glance, and then returns his attention to his book. “Of course not. Just noting that you’ve been hanging out with him a lot lately.”

“He only got here last month, I’m just showing him around. You know; like you did for me.”

Pierre hums indifferently, and Sebastian takes a second to look at him. There’s something wrong, he knows that much, but if it’s not jealousy he doesn’t know what it could be. Maybe Pierre had planned a surprise night for them and Sebastian had ruined it? He’s been trying, ever since their fight, to pay more attention to Pierre, to how he reacts and responds to things, but tonight he has a date he’s already running late for. And so he just presses a kiss against Pierre’s cheek, trying to ignore the way Pierre pulls away from him.

“I’ve got to go, but I’ll see you later, okay?”

“You coming home tonight?”

It’s a standard question when either of them goes out alone, but even if the tone is light there’s a tense undertone, and Sebastian hesitates.

“I don’t know... I wasn’t planning on it. Do you want me to?”

“No. No, you go, have fun. Tell him hi.”

“Do you want to come?” Sebastian’s not even sure if João would be up for it, but it’s the only thing he can think of to try to wipe the grumpy expression off of Pierre’s face. “I don’t know if there’s any tickets left for the movie but you could-”

“No, thanks,” Pierre interrupts without turning around. “I told you: have fun. Now go, I wouldn’t want you to miss the movie. _Mon coeur à toi_.”

The four words sound less like a declaration of love and more like a dismissal, and Sebastian's not sure what to do with it, but after a few awkward seconds in which Pierre completely ignores him, he finally decides to just let it go.

“ _Mon coeur à toi_ ,” he replies, pressing a final kiss against Pierre’s hair. He really doesn’t like to leave Pierre like this, without knowing what’s wrong, but there’s only so much he can do - he’d asked if something was wrong, he even invited him along... Besides, out of the two of them Pierre was the talker, so if he didn’t want to talk, it couldn’t be all that bad, right?

And so Sebastian goes. But no matter how hard he tries he can’t focus on the movie, and he can’t even focus on João, and when they walk to the station to take the metro back to João’s place he finally gives up, makes up a flimsy excuse about not feeling well, and takes the other line home.

To Pierre.

.

The house is dark and quiet when he lets himself in, and he toes off his shoes, careful not to make any noise. But he is so focused on avoiding the creaking floorboard between the hallway and the kitchen that his keys slip from his hand, falling on the floor with a loud thud that resounds through the apartment, and he freezes. The seconds tick by without any reaction, however, and he slowly lets out the breath he was holding

He makes it to Pierre’s room without any further incidents, but when he opens the door his stomach drops. The bed’s unmade, looking exactly as it had when they’d gotten up that morning, and Sebastian curses. He hadn’t expected Pierre to go out on his own, not tonight, and he doesn’t know why it makes him feel like throwing things.

At least he didn’t have to worry about being quiet anymore now.

He stomps to his own room, tugging his shirt and trousers off as he goes and throwing them roughly in the direction of his chair.

“Aren’t you going to hang those up?”

Instantly, Sebastian spins around to the sleeping form on his bed he hadn’t even noticed was there yet.

“What?”

“I said-” Pierre pushes himself up on his elbows, rubbing his eyes sleepily. “Aren’t you going to hang those up? They’re gonna wrinkle. You hate it when your clothes wrinkle.”

But Sebastian could care less about his clothes, his relief of finding Pierre home after all still overshadowed by the fright Pierre has just given him.

“What the fuck are you doing in my bed?”

“I missed you,” Pierre mumbles and then falls back on the bed, arms closing tighter around Sebastian’s pillow that he is holding.

“So you decided to sleep in my room?”

“I always sleep in your room when you’re out. Don’t you sleep in mine when I’m out?”

“I-I... I- you... that’s-”

Sebastian sputters, not sure how to answer that question while keeping his dignity and -most of all- not looking like a creep. Because he does, every time, envelopes himself with Pierre’s scent each night he has to miss him, making sure to set his alarm so he’ll be back in his own bed by the time Pierre returns.

“Sometimes," he finally says. "Just... sometimes.”

“You want me to go back to my room?”

“No!” Finding Pierre in his bed nearly caused him a heart attack, but it still was infinitely better than another three days of silent treatment as he’d been fearing. “No... no, I-uh... You can stay. Please, I want you to stay.”

“Good,” Pierre grumbles, turning over. “Because frankly I’m too lazy to move.”

And despite himself Sebastian has to suppress a smile - somehow he’s sure Pierre would have stayed in his bed no matter what he’d have said. But he still feels he breathes more easily as he hangs up his clothes properly, and when he gets into bed and Pierre allows him to wrap his arm around him, he heaves an inward sigh of relief.

“So, how was he?” Pierre asks after a few minutes of silence. “I didn’t expect you home so soon. Actually, I didn’t expect you home at all.”

“I missed you,” Sebastian echoes Pierre’s words from earlier. “I left after the movie. I couldn’t-” He pauses. “I couldn’t stand the thought of you being mad at me again.”

“I wasn’t mad at you.” Pierre turns around in Sebastian’s arms to look at him properly. “I am not mad at you. It’s not you, okay?”

“Then what is it?” Sebastian asks. But Pierre doesn’t reply, just shrugs and tries to snuggle up closer to Sebastian. “No- nono, don’t hide away from me now! Come on, _mon coeur_ , I’m trying here - talk to me, please... what did I do wrong?”

“Nothing,” Pierre repeats unwillingly, but when Sebastian raises an eyebrow at him he sighs. “I just... I don’t like him, okay?”

“Who, João?” Sebastian asks, disbelieving, and Pierre averts his eyes. “Pépé, you barely even know him!”

“You took him to Orsay,” Pierre says a little indignantly, as if that explains everything, and Sebastian pulls back in surprise.

“Seriously? Of all the things I’ve done with him, _that’s_ what bothers you?”

“That’s _our spot_ , Sébas!” Pierre bursts out. “ _Our_ spot! I would never take anyone else there, _never_ , but you... you take him there, and you dress up, and you giggle when he texts you and-”

“You’re jealous.” Sebastian can hardly believe it, and if they weren’t having such a serious conversation he’d probably be rolling on the floor with laughter by now. Because Pierre, who claimed never to have been jealous in his life, who always insisted that jealousy was nothing but a societal construction; that very same Pierre, was now very clearly, very jealous. “You little lying piece of shit - you’re actually jealous!”

“Am not!”

“You _so_ are!” Sebastian has to laugh at the indignation on Pierre’s face - he can’t help it. “You’re jealous! Oh _mon dieu_ , where’s my camera? I need proof of this moment, I’m gonna frame it and hang it over my bed.”

“I’m _not_ jealous!”

“Oh no?” Sebastian challenges, throwing Pierre on his back and straddling him, locking his arms over his head. “Then I’m sure you wouldn’t care if I’d take Tall-Dark-and-Handsome back to Orsay, would you? We didn’t make it to the top floor last time, you know... I should show him that. They’ve got a beautiful collection of Monets up there - but of course you know that, your favorite painting hangs there. What’s it called again? The Magpie? It’s a really beautiful piece of art... we can’t have poor João miss out on that. I’m sure you wouldn’t mind if I showed him.”

“Sébas...”

“Only you would, wouldn’t you? Because you, you are jealous of a guy who means absolutely nothing to me.”

“Sébas, please...”

Pierre’s wriggling, trying to pull his hands free, and Sebastian tightens his grip.

“I bet you want to ask me, don’t you? You’re biting your tongue because you’re too proud, but inside you’re dying to ask.”

He purses his lips in a mischievous smile, and Pierre shoots him a murderous look.

“Don’t you dare,” he growls. “Don’t you _dare_ make me say it.”

“Oh no,” Sebastian grins, “I’m not gonna make you say anything.”

And then he leans forward, so he can whisper the next sentence in Pierre’s ear: “I’m going to make you _beg_ me for it.”

“You wouldn’t,” Pierre says warningly, but Sebastian just wiggles his eyebrows mischievously.

“You think? I’ll take him to the top of the Eiffel Tower...”

“Sébas...”

“... at sunset. I’ll-”

“I don’t want you to see him anymore!”

Pierre shouts it loud enough that it makes Sebastian lean back in surprise, and Pierre uses his moment of distraction to pull his hands free and fold his arms over his face.

“Pépé...”

“Don’t!” Pierre roughly shakes off the hand Sebastian had reached out to try and pull his arm away. “Just... don’t. Please.”

His voice sounds thick, and it makes any trace of amusement Sebastian still felt disappear.

“I don’t want you to see him anymore, okay? It-” Pierre takes a deep breath, pressing his hands against his eyes before he pulls them back, and Sebastian can see actual tears streaming down his face. “It drives me crazy to know you’re with him. I hate your French classes because I know he’s going to be there.”

“But... why?” Sebastian asks, not understanding. “He’s just one of the boys, Pépé, I’ve had so many of them, why is this one any different? He’s just been really homesick and I was trying to get his mind off things. There’s nothing more to it, I promise.”

“I know!” Pierre furiously wipes at his eyes. “I know. Trust me, I know. But I just... I don’t know, there’s just something in the way you talk about him, and then you started dressing up whenever you took him out and- oh _mon dieu_ , I feel so _stupid_ right now.”

“Hey, no, you’re not, it’s ok... come here.”

Sebastian wraps his arms around Pierre, pulling him close, trying to soothe him as Pierre keeps apologizing and chiding himself. But how do you comfort someone when you don’t really understand why they’re feeling bad? How do you tell someone it will be ok, when there’s nothing wrong in the first place?

“I won’t take him to Orsay, promise,” he finally says in a vague attempt to comfort. “Or the Eiffel tower. That... that was a joke.”

Pierre chokes out a laugh.

“I know _that_.”

“And-and I’ll try to see if I can switch to a different French class, ok?” Sebastian continues. “Or maybe I’ll just drop out, I mean, it’s not like I’m learning much there what with having my own private teacher and all-”

“Sébas...”

Pierre has put his fingers against Sebastian’s lips, smiling up at him as if he’s a three-year-old.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t see him anymore,” he says. “You don’t have to turn your life upside down just because apparently I turn into a pigeon when you take a boy on a third date.”

“A pigeon?” Sebastian asks, unable to keep in a chuckle, and he squeaks when Pierre hits him square in the chest.

“It’s an expression, you ass,” Pierre chides. “ ‘Jealous as a pigeon’. See, this is why I can’t have you drop out of that class.”

“Even though it kills you every time I go,” Sebastian jokes, and Pierre sighs dramatically.

“The things I do for you, you have no idea.”

“Pépé, seriously, I’ll drop out if you want me to-”

“No!” Pierre scrambles up. “Just no, okay? We are _not_ turning into an old married straight couple, _je te jure_ \- I adore you to pieces but I will _not_ let you do that to me.”

“Who said anything about getting married?” Sebastian says stupidly. “Come on, _mon coeur_ , this has been making you unhappy for god knows how long and I didn’t even see it!”

“Well, in your defense I was trying really hard not to let it show,” Pierre mumbles.

“But you shouldn’t have to!” Sebastian scoots closer to Pierre, taking his hands in his own. “I know when this started it was all about freedom and no strings, but it was about making each other happy too. And I like the boys as much as you do, but if by giving up a little of my freedom I can make sure that you’re still happy with the way things are between us... then I will.”

“You mean making up rules and stuff?” Pierre snorts. “ _Mon coeur_ , Justin and Brian may have been your shining example when your dick was still so small it could still fit in your hand, but that was a decade ago. Get over it. They call it French kissing for a reason and I’m not giving it up.”

His posturing makes Sebastian laugh, though he has to admit Pierre has a point - fucking someone wasn’t nearly as much fun when he couldn’t kiss them.

“All right,” he says, “so how about this? You can kiss whoever you want, you can fuck whoever you want - but never twice, and you never spend the night. Same for me, of course.”

“Liking the first part,” Pierre concedes. “The second part... not so much.”

“What?" Sebastian asks, disappointed. "But why? I thought it was a rather romantic idea, actually.”

Pierre just smiles at his pout, though, leaning forward to kiss it away.

“As much as I encourage you to develop your romantic side, it’s just really impractical,” he says. “The metro stops running after one or two, and I’d rather not have you roam the streets of Paris on your own at night.”

“There’s night buses,” Sebastian weakly protests, but Pierre shakes his head.

“Impractical,” he repeats. “But - counter proposition: the person who stayed out makes the other breakfast in bed?”

Sebastian tilts his head, pretending to think it over.

“I could live with that,” he finally gives in. “As long as you make me real scrambled eggs instead of that tofu shit.”

“Promise. But I want some things too.” Pierre settles back on the bed, a serious expression on his face. “No dates. You can go out with the boys all you want, but if you want dinner and a movie you do it with me. No sleepovers in our apartment. And- and you move in with me.”

“But I already live-”

“In my room,” Pierre cuts in, looking suddenly self-conscious. “I want... I want you to move into my room. I mean - we spend most nights together anyway and when we don’t we sleep in each other’s bed, seriously: how ridiculous is that?”

Sebastian cuts him off with a kiss, pushing Pierre on his back with the sheer force of it - but he doesn’t stop. He puts everything he has in that kiss - how lucky he feels to have found Pierre, how happy it makes him not to have to hide from him, and when he finally pulls back, still panting, and sees that same happiness reflected in Pierre’s eyes, he grins.

There really was nothing greater than to love, and being loved in return.

“So I'm taking it this means we have a deal?”


	15. Chapter 14

“So we have a deal?”

“No anal, condoms for oral, and I tell you the moment I get uncomfortable. Yes, Seb, you’ve told me a thousand times, I _know_.”

Kurt rolls his eyes impatiently, but when he wants to return to the living room Sebastian grabs his arm, clearly not satisfied with his response.

“Buttercup - however much I appreciate you wanting to do this: this is not a game,” he says urgently. “In ten minutes that doorbell is gonna ring and the guy ringing it is gonna be expecting loads of awesome threesome sex, not a domestic argument. I’ve been that guy on the other side of the door and trust me, lots of couples who’d been together much longer than we have couldn’t make it through without fighting. So I really need us to be on the same page about this.”

“I know,” Kurt says, his chin just a little higher up in the air than strictly necessary. “I know. But I’m fine. Besides, if I don’t like the way he touches you or even looks at you, I can just... say the word and be done with it, right?”

“Right,” Sebastian confirms, the relief is obvious in his voice, though his eyes still searching Kurt’s face for signs that he might not be 100% honest. “Okay then... I’m gonna take a quick shower - you just... don’t stress about it, okay?”

He gives Kurt a soft peck on his lips and then turns around, and Kurt manages to keep his face in smiling mode just long enough for Sebastian to close the bathroom door behind him before his face falls and he slumps back down on the bed.

What on Earth had he gotten himself into?

Granted - it had been his idea, one that had come to him on his long walk after their fight the week before, the ultimate solution for Kurt to make sure Sebastian wouldn't get bored with him. Because what a great idea it was: a threesome would give Sebastian the extra physical attention he craved, while Kurt could keep an eye on it all and make sure that _he_ was still Sebastian’s priority. But despite what he just said to Sebastian: now that the moment is actually here, he isn’t so sure anymore.

Because what if the guy is better looking than him? What if it makes Sebastian realize he doesn’t want to go back to being monogamous? What if he actually _likes_ it? What if he doesn’t - would he really have the guts to call it off and leave the other two men with blue balls?

Kurt closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, trying to clear his head from all his doubts and insecurities. He knows it would take only one word, one shake of his head to call the whole thing off - but he also knows that’s not what he wants. Because no matter how nervous it makes him, he’d seen the spark in Sebastian’s eyes when he’d first brought up the idea, he’d felt how much it meant to him that Kurt was willing to give this a try. And so even though he believes Sebastian when he says there’d be no hard feelings if Kurt changed his mind, he knows he has to try. Not just for Sebastian, but also for himself.

As if on cue, the doorbell rings, and Kurt startles, his heart skipping a beat at the realization Sebastian is still in the shower and he’ll have to open the door himself. The thought almost paralyzes him, if only because Sebastian had been the one contacting the guy, which means Kurt won’t even know if the man on the other side of the door is actually the one they are waiting for - it could very well be a lost delivery man.

And that’s when it really hits him.

He’s going to have sex. He’s going to have sex with a man he doesn’t know, has never even seen before, and why did he let Sebastian choose the third guy again?

_Because you don’t know anyone crazy enough to want to try a threesome._

Right.

The bell rings again, and Kurt forces himself to calm down.

“You chose this,” he whispers to himself in the mirror. “Now own it.”

He lifts his chin, and smoothes down his shirt one last time before he turns around. He knows he’s overdressed, he’d seen Sebastian’s amused look when he’d carefully picked out his outfit, but he doesn’t care - he needs all the confidence he can get, and if being the best dressed man in the room helps him with that, then so be it.

The man he opens the door to is tall, almost as tall as Sebastian, with dirty blond hair that peaks out from under his beanie and a pair of dark-rimmed glasses pressed firmly on his nose. He’s broad-shouldered, with a comparatively small waist, and with his worn-out jeans and his simple t-shirt he generally looks like a nerdy Ken-doll - hot in his own way, but not exactly Kurt’s type.

He really shouldn’t have given Sebastian carte blanche on this one.

“Kurt, I assume?” the man asks, holding out his hand. “Hi, nice to meet you. I’m Gale.”

Gale’s handshake is solid, and Kurt almost squeaks as he tries and fails to return the pressure. He can’t help but notice the roughness of the man’s skin though, with calluses on his palm and finger tips, and he wonders what it would feel like to have this hand around his cock. Or around Sebastian’s cock. Or both.

“Gale, nice to meet you too. Come in.”

He forces a smile and then steps back to let the man in, following after him as he takes off his jacket and casually throws it over the couch.

“Lover of the arts, I see,” Gale says, looking around the apartment, and then points at a replica showing an apple floating in front of a man’s face. “I like that one. What is it?”

“The Son Of Man,” Kurt replies, not moving from his spot in the doorway. “Magritte, 1964, Belgian surrealism. Sebastian’s not too fond of it -he’s more an impressionism kind of guy- but I think it fits the room. So as long as he doesn’t come up with a better suggestion, it’s staying.”

Gale laughs as he turns to face Kurt.

“You’re feisty,” he says appreciatively. “Bas warned me about that. I like it.”

There’s a flirty undertone to his words that sends the blood rushing to Kurt’s cheeks, and Gale must notice his embarrassment because he immediately drops the subject.

“Do you-uh... mind if I sit down?” he asks, gesturing at the couch, and Kurt shakes his head furiously, silently chiding himself for not having offered first.

“Nono, of course not - go ahead. Do you want anything to drink? Juice, coke, ... something stronger? We have-”

“I’m fine, thanks,” Gale interrupts him with a smile as he sits down, legs crossed and one arm thrown loosely over the back of the couch, and for a few happy seconds Kurt thinks that this might be ok after all. He will just stand here and Gale will sit there and they’ll wait for Sebastian to come out of the shower. Sebastian will know what to do.

But it doesn’t take long before the silence surrounding them becomes uncomfortable, and the fact that Gale is sitting with his back towards Kurt turns from a blessing into a curse. If only Kurt could see his face, then he’d know if he was anxious like Kurt, or if this was just another day in the life for him, the way it once had been for Sebastian.

He honestly doesn’t know which of the two options he prefers.

He can’t just stay where he is, though, and so he walks over and carefully sits down on the other couch. Gale’s not looking at him, eyes drifting over the room and out the window -that answered _that_ question-, and Kurt takes the moment to study him.

He really is easy on the eyes, and there’s a hint of a smile playing around his lips that makes Kurt think that, if they’d met under other circumstances, he might have actually liked the guy. It just makes him realize how little he knows about the man. Sebastian had been deliberately frugal with particulars, insisting that the less he knew, the better. ‘He’s the partner of a colleague of mine’, he’d said. ‘He’s negative, but they both know I’m positive and they’re ok with it. And before you ask - no, I never slept with him before. That’s all you need to know. Avoid details, don’t get attached. Objectify him, that’s what he’s for.’

As if he’s heard what Kurt is thinking, Gale turns his head to look at Kurt and Kurt immediately averts his eyes, feeling caught.

“You’re nervous.”

The simple statement makes Kurt look back up, and he sees Gale watch him curiously, almost surprised.

“It’s ok, you know,” he continues, “everybody’s nervous the first time. Excited nervous or scared nervous, but nervous all the same.”

Kurt doesn’t say anything. There’s nothing to say, after all - they are just two men about to have sex, it’s not like they’ll have to fill in a ‘how well do you know me’-questionnaire once they’re done.

“God knows I was nervous the first time,” Gale continues. “The excited kind, but still. But it’s like dancing, you know - the more you do it and the better you know your partner, the easier it gets. Speaking of which, where is Sebastian?”

“In the shower,” Kurt replies with a wave of his hand, and then immediately shoves it back under his thigh so Gale won’t see how much it’s shaking. “He’ll be out soon.”

_I hope_ , he silently adds in his head, although Gale doesn’t seem to share his opinion.

“We don’t have much time to discuss how we’re gonna go about tonight, then,” he says. “Any suggestions?”

The question takes Kurt by surprise, and for a few seconds he just stares at Gale, unsure what to say.

“I mean, you’re the one who asked for it,” Gale continues, “surely you must have _some_ kind of idea of how you want it to go.”

“Not really,” Kurt finally manages after another short silence, “I mean, it’s not- _I’m_ not-”

“You’re the one who asked... but not the one who wants it.”

There’s a certain curiosity underlying the words that feels almost patronizing, and Kurt sticks his chin up in the air.

“I _want_ to do this,” he says decisively, “for Sebastian. Do you have a problem with that?”

“No,” Gale says, slowly shaking his head. “If anything I think it’s quite admirable. But it does change how I thought this night would go.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well... since you were the one asking I figured tonight would be about you. But now I’m thinking maybe we should make it about Sebastian instead.”

“I’m... not sure I’m following.”

Gale bits his lip, as if he’s trying to figure out how best to explain this, and then scoots forward a little towards Kurt.

“Look - you know how sometimes you just want to make Sebastian feel good?” he asks. “Like say, he’s tired or it’s his birthday or you just feel like it, and you just want to spoil him for once? Focus all your attention on him and don’t let him do any of the work, just have him enjoy? And you want to blow him and finger him and fuck his mouth all at the same time but you only have two hands and one mouth and you can’t quite get the coordination right?” Gale holds up his hands with a smile, and then gives Kurt a graceful nod: “At your service.”

“You mean... I get to tell you what to do to Sebastian?” Kurt asks, not sure if he understood it right.

“If you want,” Gale says, clearly amused by Kurt’s confusion. “It can be quite the power trip for both you and Sebastian, if you’re into that. Or Sebastian could tell me what to do to you, or you could just both conspire what you want to do to me, or we could just wing it, ... the possibilities are endless - as I said, it’s up to you.”

“No,” Kurt says, “no - that... that first thing... that sounds good.”

The idea of a strange man touching Sebastian seems just a little less daunting when Kurt would be the one deciding what kind of touching would be happening. Plus that way he doesn’t really have to have sex with Gale either. He just has sex with Sebastian - with a little help.

He gets pulled out of his thoughts when he hears a muffled curse coming from the bedroom, and Gale chuckles.

“Sounds like your man made it out of the shower,” he smiles. “So - we have a plan? You take the lead, and I’ll follow, and if there’s anything I initiate that you don’t like, just stop me. If I’m not sure, I’ll ask first. That okay?”

“... okay.”

“Perfect,” Gale winks. “Sebastian’s not gonna know what hits him. Anyway - I’m gonna take a quick bathroom break, but you guys get started without me, get comfortable, and then I’ll help you give him the night of his life, all right?”

Kurt nods quietly, and Gale stands up just as Sebastian enters the room in nothing but his bath robe, his hair still dripping wet. The two men greet each other with a broad grin and a quick hug, and Kurt has to suppress a first spike of jealousy when Sebastian laughs at something Gale whispers in his ear.

“Well, hello there, handsome,” Sebastian says smoothly when Gale has disappeared to the bathroom, eyes squinting a little. “Sounds like you’ve been making plans behind my back?”

He sounds too excited for a man who’s worried about being conspired against, though, and not for the first time Kurt finds himself hoping that he’ll like whatever’s going to happen tonight. He doesn’t want to see the disappointment in Sebastian’s eyes when he tells him it won’t happen again.

“Maybe?” he therefore says, trying to make it as seductive as possible, and judging from the twinkle in Sebastian’s eyes it worked.

“So you’re ok with him, then?” he asks, a tone of worry in his voice. “I know he’s not the most sophisticated guy out there but he’s flexible and I figured-”

“He’s fine,” Kurt assures him, cutting Sebastian off with a kiss, and he can almost feel the relief emanating from him.

“And you’re sure you still want to do this? Don’t get me wrong - I really, really appreciate it, but if you’re not comfortable...”

But Kurt just rolls his eyes.

“Sebble, I swear, if you’re gonna ask me that one more time I _will_ call it off, and I’ll make you watch The Notebook, Moulin Rouge, _and_ When Harry Met Sally all in one night, okay?”

“Okay,” Sebastian nods as Kurt presses a series of kisses along his jaw. “Okay, message received. Just... remember-” He gasps when Kurt takes his earlobe between his lips sucking on it gently. “Just remember I won’t be mad if-.”

“Sebastian?”

“Yes?”

“Shut up.”

Kurt slowly pushes Sebastian back to their room, kissing him wherever he has the chance, and they’ve almost reached the bed when he feels an unexpected resistance and Sebastian lets out a low growl, pressing his whole body back. And suddenly there’s two unfamiliar arms snaking around Sebastian’s chest, an unfamiliar nose tracing along the line of Sebastian’s neck, and Kurt feels a rush of jealousy course through his body. It costs him every bit of willpower not to push Gale away, and it’s just the image of Sebastian looking at _him_ , waiting for _him_ , that finally allows him to regain control over his own breathing, and follow his brain rather than his instinct. It helps Gale is looking at him as well, holding Sebastian, teasing him with the tip of his nose, but he’s waiting for Kurt to give permission to go even just a little further.

This is Kurt’s call. He’s in control, he decides what’s going to happen and what not. And if wants to quit, he’ll quit. But not quite yet.

He nods.

.

Gale pulled the front door behind him at least fifteen minutes ago, but Kurt and Sebastian are still lying exactly as they were when he left - Kurt resting his head on Sebastian’s chest, idly drawing lines through the little patches of chest hair.

“Thank you,” Sebastian finally says with a content sigh, pressing a kiss against Kurt’s temple. “That was... pretty awesome...”

Kurt doesn’t immediately reply. Admittedly, it hadn’t been nearly as awful as he’d imagined it in his worst nightmares, but it still wasn’t an experience he was very keen on repeating.

“Was he more awesome than I was?”

“Was he- what?” Sebastian pushes himself up on his elbows, looking at Kurt as if he’d just asked him to choose between Almond Joys or Snickers. “Kitten, it wasn’t a competition!”

“Was he?”

Because it had felt like a competition, even if Gale hadn’t done anything to Sebastian Kurt hadn’t explicitly given him permission to. Because the moans he’d elicited from Sebastian had been deeper and more desperate than any of the sounds Kurt had ever made him utter, and when Sebastian had finally been spent and Gale had insisted on making Kurt feel good, he’d learned exactly why.

“He... angel, he just has more experience than you, that’s all.”

Kurt huffs out a self-deprecating laugh although really, he should’ve seen that coming.

“You really don’t believe in twisting the truth to make people feel better, do you?”

“Would you rather I do?” Sebastian asks, and Kurt honestly can't tell if he's being serious or not. “It would’ve been a lie - _you_ would’ve known it was a lie, _I_ would’ve known _you_ knew it was a lie... what’s the point? Besides, he might have mad fingering skills... _you_ are still the most amazing man I know.”

“Right...”

“Kurt, look at me.” Sebastian pauses, making sure Kurt is actually looking at him and paying attention. “What you did for me today... stepping this far out of your comfort zone just because you thought it would make me happy... nobody’s ever done that for me before. _Nobody_. So yes, that makes you the most amazing person I have ever met. And I will never not be grateful that you were willing to give it a chance, even if it never happens again.”

“I haven’t even said anything yet!”

“You don’t have to.” Sebastian smiles, stroking his finger along Kurt’s jaw line. “Don’t you think I can tell the difference between you pretending to have fun and you actually enjoying yourself? I know you, dummy, I can tell when you’re faking it. And before you ask: no, I don’t think Gale noticed.”

Kurt closes his mouth again, feeling strangely vulnerable because of the ease with which Sebastian seems to be able to read him, and he lowers his head, snuggling up to Sebastian as close as he can to not have to look him in the eye.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

And he is. He really is sorry that he’s not able to give Sebastian what he wants. He couldn’t make himself want children for Blaine’s sake all those years ago, and he can’t make himself be ok with Sebastian sleeping with other people. And so once again, he can’t be who his partner needs him to be. He feels like he failed Sebastian, like he failed their relationship, and if only he didn’t feel so empty maybe he would be able to explain...

“It’s okay,” Sebastian whispers back, pressing a kiss against Kurt’s hair, and Kurt doesn’t know whether the sincerity in his voice makes him want to laugh or cry.

"I just... I feel like I'm doing something  _wrong_ ," he says. "He touches you and I want to scratch his eyes out, but he touches me and you look like you've been granted a glimpse of heaven. And I don't understand how you're not even a little jealous."

"But I _am_ jealous!" Sebastian's eyes are darting all over the room as he seems to think. "I am jealous but it's not... a negative feeling? Like... like that feeling you have when you get on a rollercoaster, and they pull you higher and higher. And the anticipation kills you, and you hate it, but at the same time that's exactly what you're doing it for, because you know something great is going to happen."

"But _what_  great thing then?" Kurt asks desperately. "How is seeing me come because some random guy sucks me off great?"

But Sebastian just smiles and shakes his head, stroking Kurt's cheek with the back of his hand.

"I told you - it's not about the sex. Even though you look insanely hot when someone sucks you off and I wish you would let me tape it so I could show it to you... that's not the point. The point is that you come back to me. I'm not bothered too much if I'm not the only man in your life, as long as I get to be the most important one. So when you don't just look at the grass on the other side of the mountain, when you actually go there and  _taste it_... but you still come back to _me_... when you choose _me_. That, for me, is the real thrill."

"Well of course I choose you," Kurt says indignantly, "I have absolutely zero interest in becoming Ken's Barbie."

Sebastian chuckles.

"Which is exactly why I asked Gale and not that twink at Domino's you keep swooning about."

"He's not a twink!" Kurt protests, even as Sebastian mouths 'He so is'. "Is not! But wait- so you chose Gale because you knew I wouldn't be attracted to him."

"All due respect, baby," Sebastian smirks, "but this was your first threesome and I wasn't about to risk you loving it and running off with the other man. I'll be the first to admit I'm adventurous and I like a challenge, but I know when to pick my battles."

"What about the risk of  _you_ running off with the other man though?" Kurt asks, but Sebastian immediately starts laughing.

"Don't you worry about me," he says, pressing a kiss against Kurt's forehead. "I've seen it all and I've done it all, and I promise you: there is not a man on this planet who will keep me from coming back to you."

_But I don't want you to have to **come back** to me_ , Kurt thinks.  _I just want you to **stay**_.  


It's the ease with which Sebastian talks about it, the self-evidence of it all that makes Kurt feel like Sebastian is the one with the 'normal' viewpoint, while Kurt's the one with the restricted, backwards opinion, and he can't help but think that whatever Sebastian says, there will come a day that he'll get bored of Kurt, or start resenting him for limiting his freedom.

His thoughts must be clearly readable on his face though, because once more Sebastian shakes his head at him, pulling him close against his chest.

"Stop thinking, Kurt," he says, resting his chin on Kurt's head. "I'm not gonna cheat on you. I'm not gonna not consider our sex life boring because it’s only ever just the two of us, or because you’re not as experienced as me or some of the partners I’ve had. I'm not gonna be mad at you or feel any resentment for you because you want our relationship to be exclusive. I am not. going to. leave you. For anyone. Ever. And I want you- no, I  _need_  you to promise me, that if you ever doubt any of what I just said, that you’ll come to me.”

As he talked, Kurt has slowly pushed himself up, staring at Sebastian, wondering how he knew so well what had been going on in his mind. And he wants to believe that what Sebastian’s said is true - he wants to believe so badly that his failure doesn’t have to mean the end of their relationship, but how can he when he’s seen the look in Sebastian’s eyes, when he’s seen and heard himself how much Sebastian enjoyed their little experiment?

“How do I know that any of that is even true in the first place?” he asks.

“Because you know I would never lie to you just to make you feel better.”

Sometimes you don’t need complicated arguments or elaborate proof to believe something. Sometimes all it takes is one sentence.

“I’m pretty sure you’re the only man on Earth who can make such an argument and actually get away with it,” Kurt says, shaking his head. "I’m also pretty sure that’s exactly why I love you.”

Sebastian’s cocky ‘I know’ is muffled by Kurt kissing him, long and lazy, finally relaxed now that he only has his own mouth and his own two hands to worry about.

“Will you teach me?” he asks, and he’s sure it must mean something when Sebastian doesn’t even needs to ask what he’s referring to.

“Every trick in the book,” Sebastian assures him with a mischievous smile. “Plus the ones I invented myself. Patented Smythe tips and tricks.”

Kurt rolls his eyes - he can't help it.

"You're a dork."

"A dork who loves you."

"... I love you too."


	16. Chapter 15

“I love you.”

“I know.” Sebastian smiles, leaning back into Pierre’s embrace, pouting his lips in invitation, and Pierre takes it, kissing him slowly. The angle is awkward, Sebastian leaning back in the couch and Pierre towering over him leaning over the back of the couch, but they’ve made worse positions work. “And thank you for the rose. Mon coeur à toi.”

“Mon coeur à toi,” Pierre responds with a smile, pressing a final kiss on Sebastian’s lips before he pulls back. “And you’re very welcome. So - what are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Sebastian says as innocently as he can muster, but he should have known that immediately turning around the tablet in his hands would’ve raised suspicion.

“Right,” Pierre drawls as he walks over to sit down next to Sebastian, “and I’m _Saint Nicolas_. I know that look, Sébas, you’re up to something. What are you doing, planning another surprise weekend?”

“Hey! My family may be well-off but they’re not _rich_ , you know?” Sebastian says, faking indignation. “If you think I’m gonna fly you to Amsterdam every weekend you’re severely mistaken.”

“Damn, I was kind of counting on that,” Pierre says, though most of his attention is focused on trying to pry the tablet off Sebastian’s lap. “I’m almost through my stash.”

“Seriously? You bought like, ten grams!”

“How do you think I paid my rent this month?” Pierre shrugs and then crows victoriously. “Ha - success!”

He quickly turns around, using his whole body to ward off Sebastian’s attempts at getting the tablet back while he peers at the screen.

“European Commission. Cordis. Ninth Framework Programme. Marie Curie Actions,” he reads quickly, audibly struggling with the advanced English of the website. “Hey - isn’t that a scientist? Something with radioactivity or something... I thought she was dead, though...”

“First woman to win a Nobel Prize,” Sebastian tells him as he continues to try to get a hold of the tablet. “Only one to have won two. And yes, she’s dead - we saw her grave at the Panthéon, remember? Now can I please, please have my tablet back?”

It’s not a secret what he was doing, or rather - it is, but only because he doesn’t want Pierre to be disappointed if it doesn’t work out.

“Is this... No, it’s-... huh...” Pierre frowns, tilting his head as his eyes dart over the screen. “Nope, not getting it.”

“It’s...” Sebastian sighs, leaning back in the couch. If he refuses to explain Pierre will just figure it out by himself, he knows, and he takes a deep breath. “It’s a kind of scholarship.”

“A scholarship.” Pierre shoots him an investigating look. “What do you need a scholarship for? I thought your parents were rich?”

“They’re not. rich.,” Sebastian repeats for the umpteenth time, though he knows that in comparison with Sebastian’s family, they are. “And even if they were they’d probably struggle to fund the four years of scientific research I’ll need to get a PhD.” 

“You’re going to do a PhD?”

Sebastian shrugs.

“I’m thinking about it? My supervisor was the one to suggest it, actually. But it would be cool, I think, get some more research experience and stuff, learn how to manage a project...”

“The same project you have now?” Pierre asks, and Sebastian wrinkles his nose.

“Nah... ,” he says, shaking his head, “you know it’s not really my thing. And I’ve practically finished anyway, maybe two or three months more in the lab and then I can start writing up. But there’s another project I could start on, maybe, so I’m having a Skype meeting with my supervisor on Monday to talk about the details.”

“Oh,” Pierre says, suddenly sounding oddly disappointed. “So... you’d be gone for four years? That’s... a long time.”

“Yeah.” Sebastian’s trying hard not to sound too excited, and he bites his lip to suppress his smile. “But, like, these past six months have flown by, and really, who wouldn’t want to get paid to live in the most beautiful city in the world for four years, right? If I get it, of course, I’m not even sure I’ll be able to apply yet - plus I’m kind of at a disadvantage because I still have American nationality. But we might be able to work around that. I hope.”

“Yeah, of course,” Pierre mumbles. He hands the tablet back to Sebastian, and then gets out of the couch. “Good luck with that.”

“Well, don’t get too excited,” Sebastian says sarcastically as he watches him go. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” is the surly reply, and Sebastian rolls his eyes.

“Pépé... remember when we talked about being passive aggressive?” he says. “You’re treading dangerous territories here...”

“At least I’m not the one deciding to just up and leave without consulting their partner!” Pierre bursts out, taking Sebastian by surprise. “Look - I know we haven’t talked about the future, or what’s gonna happen once this year’s over, but it would’ve been nice if you’d at least  _asked_ what I wanted.”

“Wo-wow!” Sebastian jumps up, going after Pierre. “Who said anything about _leaving_?”

“ _You_ did!” Pierre points an accusing finger at Sebastian. “You said you’d be going back to New York for four years!”

“Uhm... I said I’d be applying for a four-year scholarship of the _European Union_...” Sebastian says slowly. “Where in there did you hear I was going back to _New York,_ of all places?”

“Oh, I don't know - _you_ got all excited about being paid to live in ‘the most beautiful city in the world’,” Pierre gestures dramatically.

“Well yeah... in _Paris_ ,” Sebastian tries to explain. “Not New York. Paris. _Mon coeur_ , I’m not trying to leave... I’m trying to _stay_.”

Pierre blinks rapidly, the comprehension slowly dawning on his face.

“So you’re not leaving...”

“Not if I can help it,” Sebastian says. “You really thought I would leave you? Just like that?”

“I don’t know...” Pierre glances around the room, looking suddenly lost. “But you said you were having a meeting with your supervisor over Skype and I just thought - New York, and...”

“... and you stopped thinking,” Sebastian finishes his sentence, shaking his head as he walks over to Pierre and wraps his arms around his waist. “My French supervisor is on a congress in Italy. Hence... Skype. Silly boy...” He tuts as he tucks a stray strand of hair behind Pierre’s ear. “Besides, what would I ever want to go back to New York for?”

“I don’t know,” Pierre shrugs unwillingly. “You have your family there. Your friends.”

“But not you,” Sebastian tells him, lifting his chin to look him in the eyes. “I’m not leaving you, not if I have anything to say about it, okay?”

“So... you’re staying?”

“If I can get a scholarship, yes,” Sebastian says, but when he sees Pierre’s face fall he pulls him a little closer. “Hey, I’ll find something, all right? I’ll apply to every program I can find, or I could go work as a waiter somewhere... And worst case scenario I just ask my rich family to support me until I find a job.”

“I thought they weren’t rich,” Pierre says, though the corners of his mouth curl up in a smile that betrays his front of stubbornness, and Sebastian shrugs.

“I’ll have them take out a mortgage or something,” he says. “I don’t know. I’ll figure something out. Either way - I’m never,” A kiss. “ _ever,_ ” Another kiss. “leaving Paris.”


	17. Chapter 16

“Ugh, I don’t ever want to leave Paris!”

They’re standing on one of the towers of the Notre Dame, Kurt taking a deep breath as he looks out over the city stretched out beneath them, and he turns around when he hears Sebastian chuckle.

“What?”

He was going for indignant but ends up somewhere between embarrassed and amused, and Sebastian shakes his head with a smile as he moves to hug Kurt from behind.

“Nothing,” he says, hooking his chin over Kurt’s shoulder. “It’s just nice to see you so excited about everything.”

“Well, I’m glad I can be some source of amusement to you, at least,” Kurt smiles, “mister I’ve-been-in-Paris-before-I-know-this-city-like-the-back-of-my-hand-also-have-I-mentioned-I-speak-French-fluently?”

“I don’t speak it _fluently_ ,” Sebastian immediately objects, as he does every time Kurt mentions it - which is basically every time Sebastian speaks French. “And I told you: my pronunciation sucks.”

Kurt shrugs.

“Well, it’s gotten us everything we needed so far,” he says. “Plus - it sounds _insanely_ hot.”

He tilts his head back, closing his eyes as Sebastian’s lips close over his, kissing him slow and deep, and he gladly lets himself melt into the touch.

It’s been like this ever since Fashion Week ended just two days earlier - an endless string of romantic moments and amazing sights, more often than not in combination, and it makes Kurt feel giddy to even just think about it. Their first, rainy day had been spent almost entirely at the Louvre, with Sebastian revealing himself to be a nearly professional guide as he throned Kurt to room after room filled with breathtaking paintings and amazing sculptures. It hadn’t been just the Louvre, though - the Arc de Triomphe, the Bastille, the Panthéon, and now the Notre Dame: Sebastian didn’t only lead them from place to place without ever checking their map -only occasionally lost when a certain metro line had apparently been closed or changed route-, he also knew an astounding amount of background information wherever they visited, and Kurt couldn’t help but bask a little in the wonder that was his boyfriend.

And then there was the French, of course. Ever since Kurt’s short-lived stint as a cheerleader and his fourteen-and-a-half minute French Céline Dion medley that had catapulted the Cheerios to their sixth consecutive National Championship Title, most of his friends -and Kurt himself- assumed he spoke perfect French. In practice, however, knowing the lyrics to the French version of My Heart Will Go On turned out to be utterly useless when trying to order a buttered croissant and chai latte. But once again Sebastian saved Kurt’s day, in every little restaurant and carefully hidden coffee shop he took him, and if sometimes he stuttered or slipped in an English word, Kurt gladly forgave him. Because when it really matters, Sebastian finds his words just fine - as he does now.

“ _Tu veux retourner à l’hôtel, alors_?” he murmurs against Kurt’s lips, and Kurt smiles with his eyes still closed, leaning back in the embrace and crossing his arms over Sebastian’s, tightening Sebastian’s grip around his waist.

“If that was you asking to get back to the hotel, I must say I’m thoroughly tempted,” he murmurs back. “Weren’t we going to see the Eiffel tower, though?”

“Nah, the Eiffel tower can wait,” Sebastian says dismissively. “I, on the other hand...”

If his words aren’t enough to convince Kurt he’s serious, then the hardening outline of his cock against Kurt’s ass certainly is.

“Sebble...” Kurt says, though it comes out mostly as a moan. “Seb, how can you... we _just_...”

“We didn’t ‘just’ - that was this morning,” Sebastian objects, and the slow, needy kisses he presses along the line of Kurt’s neck are only just this side of decent considering they’re actually in a public place. “Weren’t you the one saying that maybe a change in scenery would... get me in a more romantic mood?”

“Well, if I’d known it would get me laid on a daily basis I definitely would’ve planned it sooner,” Kurt jokes, “although at this rate you might wear me out before our holiday's even over.”

“Ai... too bad, then,” Sebastian says, “because I’d planned for something special tonight...”

He presses forward, the tantalizingly slow way with which he grinds up against Kurt leaving no doubts about what he means, and Kurt immediately spins around, eyes wide.

“Are you joking?” he asks. His heart is beating fast against his chest, because if Sebastian means what he thinks he means... “Please, please... Please, Sebble, tell me you’re not joking, because I couldn’t-”

“I’m not joking,” Sebastian cuts in, grin widening as Kurt’s jaw drops just a little further, caught somewhere between shock and excitement.

“You really... you really want to... with _me_? You’re really ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Sebastian smiles, stroking his thumb over Kurt’s cheek. “I’m fine, Kurt. I’m in Paris, with you, and I’m _fine_. And I can do this - I _want_ to do this.”

Kurt has flung himself around Sebastian’s neck before he’s even finished talking. As close as they already were, he needs to be closer still, needs to feel Sebastian all around him. Because even if Kurt knows the matter of them taking the step of anal sex has always been a question of ‘when’, not ‘if’, the nagging feeling that it might be _he_ who was the reason for Sebastian’s reluctance has never really gone away completely.

“You’re really sure about this, aren’t you?” he asks, searching Sebastian’s face for reassurance as he pulls away a little. “You’re not just doing this for me, right?”

“Of course I’m doing this for you,” Sebastian says. “But I’m doing this for me, too. Kurt - _I want this_. And as insane as it is, I want it with you.”

“It’s not insane,” Kurt says, crashing his lips against Sebastian’s. “It’s... it’s amazing.”

To dismiss Sebastian’s decision as a mere example of the trust they’ve built, the ever-growing strength of their relationship, would be easy, but things are not that simple. There is a reason why Sebastian had chosen not to go out with HIV negative people before Kurt, and there is a reason why he made an exception for Kurt, and Kurt knows better than to take it for granted. And when he deepens their kiss, buries his fingers in the front of Sebastian’s jacket as if he’s holding on for dear life, he makes sure Sebastian knows it too.

“Then let’s not get back to the hotel,” Kurt says, smiling mischievously when he sees Sebastian’s surprise. “Let’s... let’s go to the Eiffel tower, and then maybe Montmartre or something equally romantic. Let’s find the most romantic restaurant in town, and have all the champagne and strawberries and caviar we can find. And then... _then_ let’s go back to our room.”

If Kurt was having doubts on whether or not Sebastian thinks it's a good idea, his worries melt away when he sees the excited glint in his eye. Because Sebastian loves the game almost more than he loves to claim his prize, and if Kurt had thought their day couldn’t get any better or more romantic than kissing on top of the Notre Dame, he's glad to admit he was severely mistaken.

Sebastian insists they don’t take the metro to the Eiffel tower, but Kurt can’t really be upset about it when the proposed alternative is a walk along the banks of the Seine. He buys an Eiffel tower baseball cap for his dad at one of the many stalls they encounter and a Paris-themed shawl for Jolene at another, and he even manages to convince Sebastian to try on a beret. It looks absolutely ridiculous, so Kurt does what everyone would do under the circumstances: he snaps a picture of it and immediately tweets it to their friends. It earns him the same treatment in return -although, unsurprisingly, the beret suits him much better than it did Sebastian-, and they end up buying both hats and wearing them all the way to the Champs de Mars, giggling like a pair of high school sweethearts and not bothered in the least by the looks they get from Parisians and tourists alike.

What with all their shenanigans it takes them well over an hour to reach the park where the Eiffel tower is located, and it’s almost six thirty by the time they’re finally in the elevator on their way to the second level. Sebastian remains unperturbed by Kurt’s complaints about how it’s getting darker or how they should’ve taken the metro, though, and Kurt doesn’t understand why until he walks out over the platform - and watches the sun set over the city. It’s a magnificent view: the low hanging clouds turning red and then blue as the sun slowly sinks behind the horizon, and one by one the stars in the night sky and the lights on the ground lit up.

“You knew about this, didn’t you?” Kurt asks as they’re enjoying the view from the highest level, the sky now completely dark while beneath them the city glimmers and shines. Île de France and the Arc de Triomphe are hidden from view behind the bend in the river, but Kurt can see the Montparnasse tower and the dark spot of the Bois de Boulogne, and the sight takes his breath away.

“You live here for six months, you learn a few things,” Sebastian smiles in reply to his question, moving a little closer to Kurt, and Kurt shoots him a suspicious glance.

“I thought you just spent your Christmas holidays here senior year of college,” he tells him, and Sebastian shrugs.

“I spent the first six months of senior year of college here as an exchange student,” he corrects Kurt. “Which, yes, included Christmas holidays.”

For a second, Kurt is sure Sebastian’s just messing with him - but when he catches sight of his boyfriend’s signature smirk he just sighs. _Of course_ Sebastian would spend half a year of his life on a different continent and not consider that information worth sharing unless absolutely necessary.

At least it explained how Sebastian had gained his encyclopedic knowledge on the city.

“So where do we go now?” Sebastian asks. “It’s a bit too early for me for dinner, but I guess we could go for one more walk?”

His promise has been hanging in between them ever since they left the Notre Dame, getting heavier with every minute that passes, but Kurt’s enjoying it, just as he knows Sebastian is, is enjoying dragging it out and knowing it will happen - just not yet.

“I was thinking maybe Montmartre?” Kurt suggests, and Sebastian frowns.

“The artists’ quarter?”

“I hear it’s very romantic,” Kurt says teasingly, “Jolene said there is this cosy little square where you can have your portrait drawn and stuff. Plus I guess there’ll be plenty of nice restaurants, no?”

“Yeah,” Sebastian says, straightening himself, and if Kurt hadn’t been so caught up in their evening he might not have mistaken the sudden hesitance in Sebastian’s demeanor for confusion.

“That _is_ Montmartre, though, isn’t it?” he asks. “I might have misunderstood, or maybe I don't remember correctly...”

“Nono, it is,” Sebastian says. “You’re... completely right, I just... hadn’t thought about it. We’ll have to walk a bit back to get the metro though.”

“Is it too far? Because we can-”

“No!” Sebastian is quick to reassure him. “No, it’s not far, just... not a good metro connection from here. It’s not a problem. You wanna see Montmartre, I’ll show you Montmartre. And if you ask _really_ nicely, we can even pass by the Moulin Rouge on our way there.”

He steps back with a flourish, offering his arm to Kurt to escort him back to the elevator, and Kurt accepts the gesture with a head nod.

“You’re insane,” he says, giving Sebastian a quick peck on his cheek. “But I love you anyway.”

“Quite right too,” is Sebastian’s smug reply, but when he stays silent after that, Kurt nudges him impatiently.

“This is the part where you say it back,” he reprimands, but Sebastian just shakes his head, wrapping his arms around Kurt from behind and leading them both in the elevator.

“It goes without saying,” he says hotly in Kurt’s ear. “And besides... I prefer just showing it to you later.”


	18. Chapter 17

Sebastian should’ve known that going to Montmartre was pushing his luck too far.

After they’d gotten to Paris it had taken him _days_ before he had been able to relax even a little bit: behind every corner, on every street, were memories of what had been, putting him on edge again. Thank god Kurt had been simultaneously too excited and too stressed out about Fashion Week to really notice anything wrong, and by the time the fashion frenzy had passed, so had most of Sebastian’s stress. Paris was a city of well over two million people, he knew the odds of him running into anyone he used to know here were extremely low - and that was assuming they even still lived in the city.

And so bit by bit Sebastian allowed himself to relax, showing Kurt all the places Pierre had once shown him, replacing the old, painful memories with new, happy ones. It had worked great - better than great even, and he’d never been more sure about anything than when he’d told Kurt he was ready to take the next step. Because he would do anything for Kurt - he would do _everything_.

He should’ve known giving it to his request to see Montmartre was the one thing he shouldn’t have done, though.

> _Sebastian’s exhausted. What was supposed to be a seven hour road trip had turned into a 13-hour nightmare thanks to a heavy accident on the A6 just before Avallon - and after four days in the company of three very gorgeous but, unfortunately, also very female colleagues, those extra six hours away from home had been almost more than he could bear. But he’s home, now, and when he catches sight of Pierre, sitting in the couch and drawing, the sight makes his stomach jolt._
> 
> _Pierre’s so caught up in his work that he hasn’t noticed the door opening, or Sebastian entering, and Sebastian takes a moment to just look at him, drinking in the image of him - his black hair in its usual disarray, smudges of charcoal on his cheekbones and covering his hands, one leg curled under him and the other pulled up next to his shoulder so that he can rest his head against his knee as he works. He’s fully focused on the sketch pad on his lap, the way the tip of his tongue curls over his upper lip a sure sign that he’s happy with the way things are turning out on paper, and Sebastian feels compelled to break the domesticity of the scene somehow._
> 
> _“Honey I’m hooooooooome!”_
> 
> _It sounds completely ridiculous but it catches Pierre’s attention at least: his head snaps to the side and when he catches sight of Sebastian his face lights up for just a split second before he schools it back to an expression of unimpressed amusement._
> 
> _“Seriously?”_
> 
> _Sebastian just sticks out his tongue, dropping his backpack and his coat on the counter before he walks over to the couch._
> 
> _“I’m home, you’re my honey, ... ,” he shrugs. “Isn’t that the romantic thing to say when you come home from a trip?”_
> 
> _Pierre immediately bursts out laughing, putting his sketch pad aside and scrambling up on his knees in the couch so his face is more level with Sebastian’s._
> 
> _“You Americans have no idea what romance is,” he says disapprovingly as he cocks his head and wraps his arms around Sebastian’s neck, although the undertone of amusement is unmistakable. “In fact, you are wholly unfamiliar with even the concept of it.”_
> 
> _“Oh - is that so?” Sebastian asks, equally amused. “And what makes you so convinced the French are any better at it? Because I just got home after not seeing my boyfriend for four days and the only things he’s said to me so far were either sarcastic or insulting.”_

Maybe it’s because he’s looking for him, but he’s practically the first person Sebastian sees when they turn the corner onto Place du Tertre, the famous square where Parisian artists set up their easels every night trying to sell their art to the passing tourists. There must be 20 or 30 other artists out tonight, but even though he has his back to them he stands out somehow, drawing Sebastian’s attention like the flame draws in the moth. He looks good, Sebastian notices with some relief. His hair is longer, and he even seems to have gained some weight, but other than that he’s the same man Sebastian ran away from almost four years prior. He’s still covered in charcoal, he’s still sitting in that weird, uncomfortable-looking position with his head on his knee as he draws - quickly, focused. Now and then he glances up to the woman in front of him, and when he turns his head just a little Sebastian can see how the tip of his tongue is curled over his upper lip. It brings an involuntary smile on Sebastian’s face, and the fact that he immediately knows what that means even after all these years makes his stomach churn.

> _Pierre doesn’t waste any words to reply to Sebastian’s question and instead pulls Sebastian closer, pressing his lips against Sebastian’s before he starts teasing at them with his tongue. He doesn’t allow Sebastian return the favor, though, pulling back each time Sebastian even tries to kiss him back, instead placing soft pecks and teasing licks wherever he has the chance. It doesn’t take long before Sebastian tires of the game -he’s not in a teasing mood, not today- and he curls his hand around Pierre’s neck to pull him off the couch, holding him firmly in place as he kisses him hungrily, pouring all the frustration and pent-up tension of the past four days in it. His exhaustion is forgotten, his only focus the man in front of him, and he groans when Pierre presses their bodies closer together, their hardening cocks brushing against each other._
> 
> _“Told ya,” Pierre grumbles in between kisses, “Americans. No sense of romance whatsoever.”_
> 
> _“I’ll take you out for candle light dinner afterwards, okay?” Sebastian exasperates impatiently. “My treat. Now shut up and let me fuck you already.”_
> 
> _“Oh, and eloquent too,” Pierre smirks. “You’re such a catch, Sébas.”_
> 
> _But he doesn’t protest when Sebastian spins him around, shoving down his sweatpants and boxers in one quick movement before he pushes him forward against the back of the couch._
> 
> _“I’d like to see **you** after you’ve spent four days with only your right hand for company,” he growls, climbing in after him as he unzips his own pants. He nudges Pierre’s knees further apart and settles in between them, biting down on Pierre’s neck as he slips his hands under his t-shirt. Pierre’s body arches under the touch, pressing his ass back against Sebastian’s cock, and Sebastian immediately presses back, desperate for friction. His hands are wandering over Pierre’s chest, teasing over his nipples and the lean muscles of his stomach, lips kissing every spot he can reach on Pierre’s neck and face while they continue to rock against each other, the rhythm just high enough to keep building the feeling of want low in Sebastian’s belly, but too slow to actually get either of them anywhere._
> 
> _Sebastian’s hands slide further down, over Pierre’s ass and down and then up again along his inner thighs, stroking and teasing around his cock but never quite touching, and he secretly enjoys the needy moans it elicits from the man underneath him - that’d teach him for **his** teasing Sebastian before. He looks down at Pierre’s ass, his hands stroking over the firm, white cheeks, and then pushes them apart to see his wide, slick hole._
> 
> _“Who was it?” he growls in Pierre’s ear, surprised to feel a surge of jealousy. He hadn’t expected Pierre to be celibate for four days out of sole solidarity with Sebastian, but this was recent._
> 
> _“What the fuck do I know,” Pierre breathes back. “Some guy I met at the store.”_
> 
> _“Couldn’t wait for me, now, could you?” Sebastian says lowly, but Pierre dismisses him with a short laugh._
> 
> _“You were supposed to be here six hours ago,” he says accusingly. “You weren’t. He was. You do the math.”_
> 
> _Sebastian growls, trying to get a grip on the possessiveness that’s suddenly coursing through his veins._
> 
> _“Yeah, well, I’m here now.”_

“Come on, let’s get out of here.”

They’ve been walking around the square for almost half an hour now, Kurt ooh’ing and aah’ing at every other artist they see.

“But we only just got here!” Kurt protests in response to Sebastian’s suggestion. “And some of these people are amazing, really - why this stuff is being displayed on a lamp post instead of in a museum I don’t even know. I mean, _look_ at that!”

Sebastian looks in the direction of where Kurt is pointing, at a set of brightly colored paintings of cats and elephants and birds. To him they look like they belong in some children’s nursery, but he feels like this isn’t the right place -or time- to start discussing art, and so he just hums a little non-committally. But Kurt isn’t even paying attention to him anymore, already sauntering off to his next discovery. Sebastian lets him, although his mind is working over-time trying to figure out how to get Kurt away from the square. He’d been able to gently steer them around it counter-clockwise, away from the man he simply doesn’t know how to face, but they’re nearing the end of the third side, which means just one more corner and they’ll be in plain view.

He needs to get them away from there.

“Hey, that looks like a cute little restaurant!”

In his defense, the small bistro he’s referring to does in fact look very cosy. Mainly, though, it’s located some 20 feet into a side street leading away from the square.

“Oh, come on, Sebble,” Kurt says, barely even looking in the direction Sebastian is pointing at. “We still have over half an hour before you have to eat and there’s just this side we haven’t seen yet. Besides, don’t you want your picture drawn? Or ours, maybe?”

> _The one advantage of this situation, Sebastian thinks, is that he doesn’t have to waste too much time with preparation. He immediately slips two fingers in, curling them to brush over Pierre’s prostate as soon as he feels Pierre relax around him. He’s not going to drag this out, not today, not when his own hard-on is throbbing painfully in his boxers, desperate for release after four days of celibacy._
> 
> _Pierre moans when he adds a third finger, and Sebastian curls his arm around his chest, pulling him up to kiss him. The angle is awkward, it’s sloppy with too much teeth, and the way Pierre’s neck is twisted looks downright painful, but Sebastian can’t find it in himself to care._
> 
> _“I’m gonna fuck you so hard,” he whispers against Pierre’s cheek, fingers slipping in and out of his hole, “I’m gonna fuck you harder than I’ve ever fucked you before, and then I’m going to fuck you again.”_
> 
> _Pierre gasps, and Sebastian uses his free hand to push him down over the couch again. He sinks onto his ankles, spreading Pierre’s ass cheeks with one hand so he gets a better look at his fingers who are slowly working his lover open._
> 
> _“No- no, please put them back,” Pierre whines when Sebastian pulls back his fingers, “please, mon coeur, please - I need you!”_
> 
> _Pierre tilts his hips, rutting against the back of the couch in a desperate need for friction, but Sebastian ignores him, teasing with his tongue along the rim of Pierre’s hole._
> 
> _“Mon dieu, you’re gorgeous. I wish I could draw you spread out like this, so you could see just how hot you are, spread open for me.”_

Sebastian shakes his head to get rid of the memory, but despite his best efforts he can’t help but glance at the man who featured in it so prominently.

“Not really, no,” he says absently in response to Kurt’s question about having their picture drawn, and Kurt huffs.

“Well, I do,” he says haughtily.

They’re moving closer to _his_ corner, and Sebastian pulls his hat a little deeper over his head. There’s no way he can do this, there’s no way this is going to end well and the need to get away from the square grows stronger by the second.

“Kurt, I just- I’m not feeling that well, could we... could we just _go_? Please?”

He’s not even lying - with every step closer to _him_ his stomach drops three inches, and if it wasn’t for Kurt holding his hand he probably would have bolted by now.

He finally seems to have gotten through to Kurt, though, because they stop, and Kurt looks up at him with a worried frown on his face.

“You do look a little nauseous,” he says, tilting his head as he looks Sebastian over. “Isn’t it just because you wrapped yourself up like an eskimo, though? Honestly, it’s not _that_ cold...”

He pulls the hat off of Sebastian’s head and ruffles through his hair, and it’s all Sebastian can do not to scream and grab his hat back. The fact that a certain artist is still concentrated on the paper lying on his knee is not nearly as reassuring as he’d hoped it would be.

“See, much better, isn’t it?” Kurt continues, somehow oblivious to the panic rising in Sebastian’s chest, as he starts pulling at Sebastian’s scarf. “You just need a bit of fresh air, that’s all.”

“No!”

He’s said it louder than he intended too, and Sebastian immediately casts a glance to where _he_ is sitting. He doesn’t seem to have heard it, but when Sebastian turns back to Kurt he sees him watch him in confusion.

“Sebastian, what’s going on? Is something wrong?”

> _It takes Sebastian exactly eight seconds to pull the condom out of his back pocket, tear it open, and put it on, and less than that to bury himself completely into Pierre, and he almost sighs with relief. He knows he’s not going to last long, but he doesn’t have to - he doesn’t have work or class the next day, and if he remembers Pierre’s schedule correctly he has an evening shift, which means they have all night to fuck and all morning to sleep in._
> 
> _The jerky movement of Pierre’s body underneath his own brings Sebastian back to reality, and a low groan escapes him when he sees Pierre has already taken matters in his own hand. He immediately swats Pierre’s hand away, replacing it with his own as he starts moving, not even bothering to start slow or stretch it out, and it’s not long before his orgasm washes over him, and he only just manages to scrape together enough energy to bring Pierre to his own climax._
> 
> _He gives the both of them a couple of minutes to come down from their high, panting heavily as he nuzzles his nose against Pierre’s neck, but when he feels Pierre starting to get restless below him he straightens up, grabbing his cock by the base as he eases himself out of Pierre. Something feels different, though, and when he glances down he freezes at the sight. Pierre must feel it, somehow, because he turns his head, and he frowns when he sees the look on Sebastian’s face._
> 
> _“Sébas?” he asks. “Sébas, mon coeur, what’s wrong?”_

“Nothing,” Sebastian says. Another glance at the man with the charcoal stripe on his cheek, another reassurance that doesn’t reassure him at all, and Sebastian feels like he’s going to suffocate.

He needs to get out of here.

“Nothing’s wrong, I just really want to go. Please? Can we please just go?”

Kurt looks at him, seizing him up, clearly unconvinced by Sebastian’s feeble reassurance, but he finally gives in.

“Okay,” he nods. “Okay, let’s go.”

Sebastian sighs in relief, taking his hat out of Kurt’s hand, and he casts one last glance at the man he’s walking away from yet again. One last glance, straight into the other man’s eyes.

> _“Sébas! Talk to me! Sébas!”_
> 
> _Pierre turns around, taking Sebastian’s head between his hands to make him look at him, but Sebastian doesn’t give in, stares down at his hand which is slowly getting sticky, and he can tell the moment Pierre follows his gaze and sees it too._
> 
> _Come, dripping from the tip of the condom._
> 
> _“Sébas...”_
> 
> _Sebastian pulls up his boxers and his pants, though he doesn’t even bother to zip them up as he staggers back and looks up at Pierre, sees his own horror reflected in the other man’s face._

Minutes pass as they stare at each other - or maybe it’s only seconds, maybe they’re frozen in time and this moment will last forever, and Sebastian almost hopes it will, because he has no idea how he’s going to survive if it doesn’t.

He sees the paper fall off of Pierre’s lap, the charcoal stick following soon after, breaking into two, three, four pieces as it hits the ground and bounces back. He sees him untangle his legs, stand up and fill his lungs with air.

> _ He runs.  _
> 
> _He has just the conscience of mind to grab his winter coat before he storms out the door and down the stairs, his breath hitching already but he can’t stop, he can’t stay, not after what has just happened - after what he’s **let** happen._
> 
> _He doesn’t hear any steps behind him but he doesn’t dare risk slowing down, and he urges himself on - down, down. Third floor. Second floor. First floor. He pushes himself out of the front door and out into the cold February night, his fly still open but he doesn’t care, he just runs, pretending not to hear the voice that’s calling out behind him._

“SÉBASTIEN!” 


	19. Chapter 18

There’s the hard, slapping sound of skin hitting skin, and then he’s kissing Sebastian.

That man, that... _tramp_ , with his wild, too-long hair and his worn-out clothes, who came out of nowhere screaming Sebastian’s name, is kissing Sebastian.

But to Kurt, that’s not the worst part.

No - the worst part is:  _Sebastian is kissing him back_.

For the five longest, most torturous seconds of his life, Kurt is barely able to breathe, let alone move, and by the time he manages to kick himself out of his stupor the two men have already broken free from their kiss. And Kurt wants to say something - he really, really does, he wants to scream and shout and possibly even hit someone -either man will do as a target- but instead he just watches with increasing wonder and horror at the scene in front of him. The stranger is holding- no, not holding; he’s _caressing_ Sebastian’s face between his hands, all the while softly talking to him as if to a small child. Sebastian resists the pressure, keeping his gaze down and shaking his head, but Kurt’s relief is only short-lived, because when Sebastian finally does look up, there are tears in his eyes.

“ _J’suis désolé, mon coeur_ ,” he chokes out, and even if the apology isn’t directed at him the intensity of Sebastian’s voice cuts through Kurt’s heart. “ _J’suis tellement désolé_.”

The stranger -he looks vaguely familiar, but Kurt can’t be bothered to try to remember where from- shakes his head though, and starts leaning forward to kiss Sebastian again and stop him from saying any more, and that is the incentive Kurt needed to break out of his stupor.

“Stay away from him!”

He punches the man hard against the shoulder, pushing him away from Sebastian and effortlessly returning the furious look the man shoots him. Sebastian, on the other hand, just looks dazed.

“Kurt?”

“Would you look at that - he remembers my name!” Kurt exclaims indignantly. “Yes - ‘Kurt’. Your boyfriend, remember? Who most certainly did not give you permission to...” He casts another dirty look in the direction of the third man. “... that. To do _that_. To _kiss_ that. Him. I mean-”

“Oh god.” Sebastian stares at Kurt in shock, looking at the other man and then back again. “Oh god, fuck. Oh-... oh god. I-”

“ _Il est jealoux_?” the stranger asks with a contemptuous head nod at Kurt, and Sebastian looks almost guilty as he visibly swallows, taking a deep breath before he looks back up.

“ _Il a le droit_.”

The silence that follows Sebastian’s words is louder than the hustle and bustle of the people scurrying past them, and despite himself Kurt feels almost like an intruder as he watches the wordless conversation going on between the two men in front of him. Sebastian still looks like he won the lottery but just realized he lost his ticket, while the other man’s expression slowly changes from shock, over disappointment, to a heartbreaking kind of sadness and, finally, a carefully schooled indifference.

“I am sorry,” he says as he turns to Kurt. His voice is strong and clear, the melodic French accent clearly audible, and Kurt hates that he finds it almost adorable. “I did not know. Please be not angry with Sébastien, the fault is of me.”

But Kurt _is_ angry with Sebastian. Because even if he didn’t initiate the kiss, he did reciprocate. Quite enthusiastically, even.

“You better have a good explanation for this,” he snaps at him, completely ignoring the other man in front. “Because some half-ass apology from your French admirer here is not gonna cut it.”

“I’m not-”

“I wasn’t talking to you!” 

“Kurt, please...” Sebastian pleads. “It’s not what you think - this is Pierre, he-”

“Oh, so you actually even know his name!” Kurt exclaims sarcastically. “Well, congratulations, do let me know when the wedding’s planned!”

“Kurt, will you just listen to me? He’s-”

“I don’t _care_ who he is!” He knows he should probably listen, he knows he should let Sebastian explain - even if he can’t think of a single excuse that he would accept. But he can’t, not when the image of Sebastian kissing another man without his permission is still so fresh on his mind. “You know what? Forget it. Just... take _him_ on that candle light dinner you promised me or something, because god knows I have absolutely nothing to say to you right now.”

He almost chokes on the words, casting one last glance at Sebastian before he spins around and forces himself to walk away. Because he saw the anguish on Sebastian’s face, he hears the desperation in his voice when he calls after Kurt, and Kurt’s whole body is screaming for him to turn back, to just take whatever excuse Sebastian has to offer him and forgive him, instead of leaving him there without a fight as a belated Christmas present for the other man.

But he should have known, really, he should have almost expected it, after everything he’d learned about Sebastian and their failed attempt with the threesome... he should have known that despite all Sebastian’s reassurances there would come a day when being with Kurt just wasn’t enough for him anymore, and Kurt clenches his fists, digging his nails deep into his skin to keep his tears from breaking free. He might love drama, but running around Paris at night crying over your boyfriend’s betrayal is a bit too much even for him.

When he finally makes it to their hotel room it takes him three attempts before he manages to slide the key card in the lock the right way, and he curses when he trips over Sebastian’s bag in the dark. 

“How. many. _times_ ,” he mumbles angrily, even if Sebastian’s not even there to hear it. “Don’t leave your bags in the middle of the floor.”

He fumbles around trying to find the light switch, and then sighs when he sees Sebastian’s stuff strewn out over the floor. There’s a couple of books and his mp3-player, but when Kurt reaches out to grab the furthest book, he can see a piece of paper sticking out from between the pages, and his breath hitches in his throat when he sees the five letters written on the back. He would recognize that little message anywhere, M C A T - P, and he knows what’s on the back -or rather, the front- before he pulls it from between the pages.

It’s the picture Kurt had found in Sebastian’s old wallet all those months ago, but it’s not young Sebastian’s ridiculous bandana that gets to him, or even the fact that, for whatever reason, Sebastian had kept the snapshot. It’s the other guy in the picture. His hair shorter than he keeps it now, but in the exact same state of disarray as when Sebastian had been dragging his fingers through it just fifteen minutes earlier, and suddenly Kurt knows why the man at Place du Tertre had looked so familiar.

He frantically tries to remember what Sebastian had told him about the picture and the other man in it, but his mind comes up completely blank. Sebastian had freaked out about it, but he hadn’t actually _told_ Kurt anything, and the longer Kurt thinks about it, the less it makes sense. Why would Sebastian keep a picture of someone he had such poor memories of that they practically caused a panic attack? Why would he want to kiss such a person back? And if it wasn’t the guy but rather the place or something else that had made him freak out that day, why hadn’t he stayed in touch with him, if they apparently were so eager to kiss? Maybe it had been the guy who’d insisted on breaking contact, but if it had - why would _he_ suddenly want to kiss Sebastian after not seeing him for so long?

Just trying to figure it all out makes Kurt’s head spin, and he slumps down on the couch as he tries in vain to make sense of it all. He pulls up his legs and rests his head on the back of the couch, the picture he's holding burning his fingers, a reminder of Sebastian's betrayal. But Sebastian will come back any minute now - Kurt had been lucky with the metro, but if Sebastian immediately ran after him, he wouldn't be far behind. He'd be back... any minute now. And then Kurt would be able to... to tell him... tell him...  _exactly_... what he thought of him... and... and...

He’s asleep before he can even finish the thought. 


	20. Chapter 19

“Kurt, stop!" Sebastian calls out. "Kurt - wait - where are you going?”

But Kurt ignores him, pushing through the crowd, and then he’s gone, disappeared between the masses of tourists on the square.

“Let him go,” a soft voice says behind him just as he wants to run after him, and Sebastian spins around furiously, yanking his elbow out of the grip of the man behind him, more than ready to tell him in no uncertain terms just where to stick it.

But any anger he feels dissipates the moment he sees who it is who was holding him back, and the events of the past ten minutes instantly come rushing back to him. The burn on his cheek where Pierre slapped him stings, ample proof that he's not dreaming, that it is in fact Pierre who is standing right in front of him.

Pierre who he hasn’t seen or heard in four years, Pierre who looks even more vibrant than Sebastian remembers, Pierre who seems happy, and strong, and... _healthy_... Pierre who had kissed him for the first time in four years - until Kurt had pushed him away.

Oh god... _Kurt_.

“Pépé, I have to-... he’s-”

“-not gonna listen to you now,” Pierre insists gently. “Give him some time to calm down first.”

Objectively, Sebastian knows he’s right, but it certainly doesn’t _feel_ right to let Kurt wander around Paris alone at night. Then again - Paris isn’t exactly the most dangerous city in the world, and their hotel is in a fairly touristy neighborhood... Plus Kurt is a grown man, he can take care of himself, so Sebastian really doesn’t have to feel guilty to give him some space and... stay with Pierre.

The silence between them drags on for just a few seconds too long, and it’s Pierre who finally breaks it.

“Look, I-uh...” Pierre looks almost guilty as he points over his shoulder to an angry-looking tourist. “I have to finish that cartoon first, but-”

“You’re doing cartoons now?” Sebastian interrupts him, surprised, choking out an involuntary snicker, and Pierre sticks his tongue out.

“Gotta do something to pay the other half of the rent now, don’t I?” he teases, but his words aren’t even cold when his face falls. “Oh _mon dieu_ , I didn’t mean- _mon coeur_ , that wasn’t-”

“No - no, it was,” Sebastian says, though he has to lower his head to hide how much the words really hurt. “And it’s fine... it’s... I deserved it.”

“No! Sébas, _mon coeur_...” Pierre glances over his shoulder to the impatient customer behind him, and he sighs. “Look, I really need to get back, but can you just wait five minutes? Just five minutes, I would... I would really like to talk to you. Please.”

It’s a laden question - they both know Pierre’s not interested in catching up on the years they’ve lost, and Sebastian swallows painfully. This is the part he’s been dreading, this is why he never found the courage to contact Pierre, even when he missed him so bad it physically hurt. But what choice does he have? He can’t run away from Pierre, not again - not when he’s looking at Sebastian as if he holds his world in his hands.

“Okay,” he nods reluctantly. “Okay.”

“Thank you.”

There’s a careful smile on Pierre’s face, though now that he got Sebastian to agree to talk, it seems he doesn’t really know what to say anymore either.

“You-uh... you still know how to find your way to our apartment?” he finally asks as he fishes a set of keys out of his pocket. “I promise I won’t be more than five minutes, ten tops, okay? Leave the front door ajar, the bell-”

“-is broken.” Sebastian smiles despite himself. “Yeah, I remember. But I can’t-... I mean... I _can_ , but...”

_Of course I can find the way to our apartment, but could we talk in a more neutral place?_ is what he really wants to say, but it seems Pierre understands even if he can’t find the actual words.

“Yeah... yeah, sure, of course,” he says. “How... how about _La Dernière Heure_? It’s just down the road here, second on the right. Did I ever take you there?”

“Is that where they had that great hot chocolate?” Sebastian asks, and Pierre nods. “Yeah, then I know where it is.”

“Okay. Then I’ll-uh... see you there,” Pierre says, returning Sebastian’s smile bashfully, and after a moment’s hesitation he leans forward to press a kiss against Sebastian’s forehead. “ _Mon coeur à toi_.”

He doesn’t give Sebastian the chance to reply, immediately turns around to run back to his easel -and his angry customer- and leaving Sebastian more than a little confused. Because he knows saying it back would have been wrong.

But not saying it felt just as wrong.

.

Sebastian’s about halfway through his hot chocolate when Pierre comes stumbling in - easel on his back and a folder full of drawings and paintings under his arm. The smudges of charcoal that were covering his face and hands before have disappeared though, and Sebastian’s not quite sure why that makes him smile.

“I’m so sorry I took so long,” Pierre starts apologizing as he tries to fit both himself and his stuff in the little space between Sebastian’s table and that of the next customer. “Stupid little git wanted a freaking discount because she got, and I quote, ‘painful buttocks due to the uncomfortable chair’. I told her beforehand the thing would take ten minutes if she wanted it colored, she agreed, I got it done in under seven and she’s still complaining! Freaking tourists...”

“I thought you liked tourists,” Sebastian grins, “I think I might even vaguely remember something about you wanting to sell your paintings to them to lure their friends and family into touristing as well?”

“Yeah, well, that was _before_ I had to actually _work_ with them,” Pierre sighs dramatically. “And no offense, but the Americans are the worst. This is Europe - stop trying to pay in freaking dollars! And yes, I know English, don’t act so surprised. We all do, most of us just choose not to actually speak it to avoid having to have an actual conversation with dumb asses like you!”

He finally sits down, letting out a deep breath as he smiles up at Sebastian, but before he can say any more a waiter places a steaming mug of hot chocolate in front of him and he looks up in surprise.

“I asked them to bring it once you got in, didn’t want it to get cold,” Sebastian tells him, and when Pierre starts reaching for his wallet he grabs his wrist. “And leave it. If you didn’t order you don’t pay, remember? This one’s on me.”

It earns him an amused smile and then Pierre nods, closing his hands around the mug.

“Thanks.”

They’ve sat here before, at this exact same table, and maybe that’s why this time the silence doesn’t feel as heavy. It doesn’t mean that Sebastian is able to relax, though, or that he doesn’t look away when he feels Pierre’s eyes on him.

“Did you tell him?”

Pierre doesn’t specify what Sebastian is supposed to have told to whom, but he doesn’t need to.

“Yeah,” Sebastian nods slowly. “Took me a fucking month but... yeah... I told him.”

“I’m glad.” Pierre lifts his mug to his lips to take a sip. “At least I managed to teach you something, then.”

He doesn’t look glad, though, Sebastian thinks, just sad, and he wishes he could just... lean over and kiss it better the way he used to. But he’s already got too much explaining to do to Kurt and so he reaches out instead, closing his hand around Pierre’s.

“I’ve never forgotten about you.”

“It felt like you did.”

It’s not sadness, Sebastian sees now - it’s loneliness, and that, he thinks, might actually be even worse. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt as much if Pierre would actually accuse Sebastian of something, but there’s no judgement in his voice, just the simple stating of a fact, and Sebastian has no idea how to deal with that.

“Why did you leave, Sébas? I get why you ran away but why didn’t you come back?”

“After what I did?” Sebastian huffs out a laugh. “ ‘Hey, hello, I just infected you with HIV I’m sure you don’t mind by the way what’s for dinner tonight’? Yeah, I can see that going down real well...”

“So what, you change your number, delete your Facebook, and jump on the first plane back to the States?” Pierre says sarcastically. “Yeah, that was a lot better - ten out of ten for problem solving, congratulations!”

“Pépé...”

“You didn’t even give me a fucking _chance_ , Sébas!” Pierre hisses, angrily slamming his mug down on the table. “Do you have any idea how worried I was? I looked _everywhere_ for you. _Everywhere_. All our friends, all the places we used to go to... and then I had to hear from a fucking _cop_ you’d gone back to New York!”

“From a _cop_?” Sebastian asks incredulously, not sure if he heard right, and Pierre rolls his eyes.

“Because I filed a fucking missing person report on you, you dimwit,” he scoffs. “And don’t look at me like that - you hadn’t come home in three days and you didn’t respond to any of my calls or e-mails, what the fuck was I supposed to do? It’s not like you had any family or friends I didn’t know about that you could’ve gone to - anything could’ve happened.”

Sebastian had prepared himself for yelling - he knew he deserved yelling. But he’d always imagined it to be along the lines of ‘why did you ruin my life’ or ‘why weren’t you more careful’; never, in none of the thousand scenarios he’d pictured for their meeting again, had he ever considered Pierre being mad at him just for... _leaving_.

“I thought I was doing you a favor,” he says quietly, not sure how to explain it differently. “I thought you’d never want to see me again.”

“Yes, well, I’m perfectly capable of doing my own thinking, thank you very much,” Pierre says sarcastically. “So next time you want to do me a favor - don’t.”

Neither of them says anything after that, Pierre dabbing a napkin at the drops of spilt chocolate milk with short, jerky movements, while Sebastian just stares into his mug.

It is worse - it is so much worse than he ever imagined it would be. Because the only reason why he managed to finally move on with his life, years after his return to New York, was by telling himself that it wasn’t really his fault. He hadn’t exactly been gently with Pierre that time, that was true, but at the end of the day, sometimes condoms broke. It wasn’t his fault, and there was nothing he could’ve done to prevent it.

But what Pierre was reproaching him now - disappearing without a word, worrying him, ... _that_ was nobody’s fault but his own. And he could have avoided it easily enough if he’d just gotten his head out of his ass and thought things through a little more. And checked his e-mail. He could’ve had a completely different life now, if he had stopped for even just one second and placed himself in Pierre’s shoes.

“I’m sorry,” he says defeatedly. “I’m sorry. I don’t even know what else to say. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well... ,” Pierre shrugs. “Water under the bridge, I guess? I’m still alive, and look at you! Got yourself a shiny new boyfriend and everything. And with 'everything' I mean 'a pretty tight leash'.”

Despite the accompanying wink it doesn’t come out quite as careless as Pierre probably intended it, but it still makes Sebastian smile. This, at least, he’d been expecting. This, he could cope with.

“He never asked me to,” he says. “It was my choice.”

“And how’s it working out for you?” Pierre asks, lifting an eyebrow in amusement.

“Naaah... I’m managing,” Sebastian shrugs, smiling. “Terribly frustrated at times, but I suppose I have myself to blame for that. I-uh... I-”

“-refuse to properly fuck him into the mattress because you don’t trust condoms anymore?” Pierre finishes his sentence before he can say anything more, and Sebastian squints at him.

“Don’t even pretend like you just knew that.”

“Sounds like something you would do,” Pierre shrugs. “You always were pretty dramatic when it came to making up for mistakes you made. Or thought you made.”

He takes a last sip from his hot chocolate, and then puts his mug down.

“Anyway - enough about that. How about we grab some dinner somewhere?”

The sudden change in atmosphere catches Sebastian by surprise, and for a moment he doesn’t quite know what to say.

“You... wanna go for dinner with me?”

“That’s what I asked, wasn’t it?” Pierre asks, already standing up. “Or do you suddenly not speak French anymore? Your accent’s gotten way worse, by the way - just thought you should know.”

“Kurt was pretty impressed by it,” Sebastian replies dumbly, and then remembers just what has gotten him so flustered. “Wait - don’t you need to yell at me some more?” 

But Pierre just rolls his eyes.

“When is your flight back to New York?” he asks.

“Sunday?” Sebastian replies, not sure what that has to do with anything.

“Well, that gives me two days with you to make up for the four years you made us lose,” Pierre says. “Now I could spend those two days yelling at you and making you feel bad for something you can’t change anything about, or I could try to make the best of it so that when you go home I actually get a functional e-mail address of yours. In conclusion... are you coming?”

“I... can’t,” Sebastian says, but when he sees Pierre’s face fall he hurries to explain. “I mean - it’s only half seven, and I’ve got... I need to take my meds at half eight. I need to eat at half eight.”

“Oh,” is all Pierre says in reply, and then, after a short pause: “Kurt?”

Sebastian doesn’t know why he feels so embarrassed when he nods, but he does.

“Are you- are you on any drugs?” he asks when he finally dares look up again, but Pierre just looks at him like he’s sprouted an extra head.

“Why the hell would I be on any drugs?” he says, genuinely surprised, “Well, apart from the happy grass, obviously.” And then the penny seems to drop, and so does Pierre's jaw. “No! _Mon dieu_ , no, nono, I’m not... No, _mon coeur_... I’m negative.”

“You _what_?”

Sebastian instantly drops back down on his chair, not sure he heard it right. He _can’t_ have heard it right.

“I’m negative,” Pierre repeats, and then gives Sebastian a wry smile. “Guess the universe thought losing the love of my life was quite enough hardship to bear at once. Now, are you coming or not? I know this place that has great appetizers.”


	21. Chapter 20

“Kurt? Kurt, come on... wake up... you’re gonna get your clothes wrinkled and your neck in a twist like this.”

“Hmmmmphr...”

Kurt slowly becomes aware of his muscles aching, of too little space and too much light, and he tries in vain to turn around to find a more comfortable position to sleep.

“Kurt, please... you know you hate it when I carry you.”

“Seb?”

There’s something inside Kurt that stirs at the realization that it’s Sebastian pulling at him, something indescribably happy and relieved, though through the haze of his sleepy mind he can’t quite place why that is.

“Come on... get up... let’s get you to bed, ok?”

And it’s only now that Kurt notices that he’s draped over the couch and he frowns, trying to remember the night before - Sebastian in a beret, the Eiffel tower, Montmartre and-

“Sebastian!” As the memories of last night come flooding back to him, he instantly flings himself around Sebastian’s neck. “You’re here! You came back! You came back, thank god, you came back...”

But when he wants to kiss Sebastian he meets cheek where he expected lips, and he pulls away reluctantly. It could have been a coincidence. Then again, it could not have been...

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” Sebastian smiles, but the exhaustion in his voice and the redness of his eyes belie his statement. “Just... tired.”

“What time is it?”

Sebastian shrugs.

“Not sure. Around midnight, would be my guess?”

“Mid- _what_?” Kurt checks his watch in astonishment, and then his stomach drops. “Oh god, please tell me you didn’t forget to take your pills.”

“No, I didn’t,” Sebastian says with a sigh, just this side of impatient. “I went for dinner with Pierre and-”

“You _what_?” Kurt feels like the ground just fell out from underneath his feet. “How- Sebastian, _how could you_!”

“Look, Kurt, I know you’re upset about that kiss, but I-”

“So you _take him out for dinner_?” Kurt explodes. “You kiss some random French guy _without permission_ , which, by some miracle you’re not obtuse enough to realize, obviously upsets me, and your solution to the situation is _to take him out for dinner_?”

“Pierre said-”

“ _I don’t care what Pierre said_!" Kurt yells. "I care about what _you_ did and besides, since when is what that scumbag whore says more important than what I feel?”

“You watch your words, Kurt!”

Sebastian’s outburst hits Kurt like a whip, and Sebastian himself is shaking, raising his finger at Kurt.

“Don’t you _dare_ call him that. Don’t you _dare_ bring him down when you don’t even know him, when all he did was make the wrong assumption I was available. Don’t you _dare_.”

“So what, I should just let him... burst into my life, swoop you off your feet and let him have you?”

“That’s not-”

“Is that what you want, Sebastian? Is this just how it ends, six months down the drain because you stumbled over a pretty French face?”

He should probably break up with Sebastian on the spot, Kurt thinks, and if he’d been ten years younger he probably would have. And it isn’t so much that he _can’t_ let go of Sebastian rather than that he simply doesn’t want to. Because they’d had such a great day, such a great _six months_ ; Sebastian had even wanted to take the next step in their relationship, something he’d said -if not decided- only a few hours earlier. That meant something - it _had_ to mean something. Kurt had managed to overcome Blaine’s betrayal -which had been much worse than just a kiss and a dinner-, and he would be able to overcome Sebastian’s too.

But that will come after. Right now, Sebastian needs to know how much Kurt  _hurts_ , how much _Sebastian_ hurt Kurt - and it's only about to get worse.

“He’s more than just a pretty face, Kurt.”

“Oh, I know _that_.” Kurt scrambles up, looking around on the floor until he spots the picture he found earlier and he holds it up to Sebastian. “It’s him, isn’t it? This guy? You remember what happened last time I saw this picture? You started _hyperventilating_ , Sebastian! How can you let him do that to you and then run around kissing him and taking him out for dinner!”

“Okay, first of all - _he_ ran up to _me_ , okay?” Sebastian exasperates. “I couldn't really have predicted he’d kiss me, could I?”

“True,” Kurt admits, “and as I and the rest of Paris could see, you made a heroic effort of pushing him off you rather than, oh, I don’t know, _kissing him back_.”

“Look, Kurt, I tried to get us out of there as soon as I saw he was there too,” Sebastian immediately starts pleading. “I tried so hard, you know I did. But you didn’t want to go, you just _had_ to see _everything_ -”

“So now it’s _my_ fault?”

“-that’s not what I’m saying.” Sebastian sighs. “You just... you don’t know the whole backstory.”

But Kurt just shoots him a condescending look.

“You’re telling me you were trying to avoid a guy you ended up kissing and taking to dinner. I would say there’s a whole backstory _book_ I don’t know about.”

But instead of replying Sebastian just bows his head, keeping his eyes on the floor and biting his lip as he settles down onto the bed, and after a long minute of silence Kurt can’t take it anymore.

“So, you’re gonna tell me about him or what?”

Sebastian’s head immediately snaps up, the look of surprise on his face quickly making place for discomfort when he sees Kurt is serious.

“He... he was my flatmate,” he finally says. “When I was living here in Paris - we shared a flat.”

“And that explains you two kissing _how,_ exactly?” Kurt starts, but then Sebastian gives him a shrug and a head tilt, one corner of his mouth lifting in an apologetic smile. “... because you screwed around with him. _Obviously_.” Was it really that simple? “And then _he_ wanted something serious but _you_ were... well... being _you_ and you were too polite to tell him no so you didn’t want to see him because even after four years he still thinks he has a shot with you?”

Granted, Kurt can’t really imagine Sebastian being too polite to tell someone to back off, but apart from that completely negligible flaw his theory actually would make sense.

“Not quite...” Sebastian says, giving Kurt a half-hearted smile. “We-eh... we were together for half a year or so, though I guess it depends when you start counting. I can’t speak for him, but I pretty much fell for him like a rock first day I met him.”

“The first man you ever fell in love with.”

It’s just a small puzzle piece, but when Kurt sees Sebastian with the same expression on his face as he’d had that night on the roof in L.A. -fondness and melancholy, and a too big dash of despair- he knows he’s guessed right.

“We just clicked, you know?” Sebastian continues. He’s looking at the floor again, elbows resting on his knees, and Kurt’s not sure whether he’s telling the story to him, or to himself.  “He was-... _is_ so different from anyone else I knew then. We had the same kind of humor, the same view on relationships - plus that little anarchistic streak every student thinks makes them unique. He didn’t take shit from no one, not even me. Which is obviously why I felt so compelled to imitate a falling chunk of stone whenever he was around.

“You know when you’re young, you have these times where you have it all figured out? Like you stop giving a crap about what your parents or your teachers say because suddenly you just _know_ \- you know what you want, what you’re gonna do, who you’re gonna be...

“That’s how it was with Pierre and me. I was gonna do my PhD in Paris, and he’d work as a street artist, and then we’d go wherever my career would lead me because he could draw anywhere anyway. And then when we would turn thirty five we would move to the south of France, adopt three kids, and... _god_ , I don’t even know what we were supposed do there. Live off the heavenly dew, I suppose...”

He lets out a short, bashful laugh and then shrugs, and if it hadn’t been his own boyfriend telling the story, Kurt would have probably sighed and shed a tear at the way Sebastian’s whole demeanor had lit up as he talked about Pierre and the future they’d planned together.

“So... what happened?” he asks after Sebastian’s been quiet for a while, but he regrets the question as soon as he hears the answer.

“The condom broke.”

Sebastian delivers the words the same way he’d told Kurt he was HIV positive five months earlier. Without any introduction, without any feeling - distant, as if it has nothing to do with him, just another PSA.

“I’d been away for a couple of days,” he continues, “I used to have to go to Switzerland to collect data every other month or so and when I got back...” He closes his eyes, and Kurt can see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. “I panicked. And I ran. I just... ran. I don’t remember much of what happened after that, but next thing I know I’m getting off the plane in New York and knocking on Jolene’s door begging her to take me in. That bag of clothes you found... that was literally all I had on me that day.

“I didn’t intend to stay, I really didn’t. I meant to come back. But I... needed time; to process what had happened, to figure out what I was going to say to Pierre. But I never managed. I just... felt like I’d signed his death sentence or something, and how was I supposed to apologize for something like that?”

“It wasn’t your fault.” Kurt needs to say it - if not for Sebastian’s sake then for his own. “You just drew the short straw - it wasn’t your fault.”

But Sebastian shakes his head.

“Of course it was my fault,” he says. “I’d never taken it seriously, Kurt. The whole HIV thing. To me it was like... having big ears, or- a lisp, or whatever. I had it and people would probably tell me I shouldn’t do certain things or be certain things because of that, but as long as I didn’t let it hold me back it wouldn’t. I never... I never saw it as something that could affect my life, let alone someone else’s. And because of that I went and basically killed the one person I loved most in the world.”

He huffs again and drags his hands through his hair, and when he looks back up there is only one word Kurt could possibly describe him with: broken.

“I never even told him that, you know?” Sebastian says. “That I love him. I never told him that...”

His voice trails, and Kurt wonders if Sebastian knows he used the present tense.

He wonders if it means something, and hopes it doesn’t.

“That why you’ve been so distant with me, isn’t it?” he asks. “Why you said you didn’t sleep with negative people before me.”

“I couldn’t, Kurt!” Sebastian exasperates. “I just... I couldn’t. I thought I’d already ruined one person’s life, and I-... I don’t think I could handle it happen again. I quit college. I tried to quit sex but I couldn’t even do _that_. It was pathetic. And then the plan was to sit and wait until I would just _die_ already, but Jolene got sick of my moping and basically bullied me into modeling.

“And then I met you. And you were... _you_ , and you came after me - time and time again I tried to run away but you always came after me.”

“Well, of course I came after you!” Kurt exclaims. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Did you even hear a word of what I just told you?” Sebastian asks, almost incredulous. “I literally ruined someone’s life because I was too busy being an irresponsible dumb ass!”

“Sebastian - it was _an accident_!” Kurt chides, walking over to sit down next to him. “It wasn’t even a mistake because it wasn’t. your. fault! Can’t you see? Punishing yourself doesn’t solve anything - it didn’t then and it doesn’t now, and the only life you’re in danger of ruining here is your own. And I admit I was more focused on trying not to hit him earlier, but he looked like he was doing ok.”

“That’s because he’s negative,” Sebastian says with a roll of his eyes, looking up when he hears Kurt snort. “It’s not funny!”

“Of course it’s not,” Kurt immediately agrees, forcing himself to keep a straight face, but he really can’t help himself when he glances at Sebastian through his eyelashes. “It is a little bit, though.”

“It’s not-” Sebastian starts, but when he sees Kurt’s apologetic smile he relents. “Well, maybe a little.”

Kurt just pokes him in the side, and Sebastian pokes him back, and soon enough they’re both giggling, falling back on the bed as they both struggle for dibs on the big spoon. Sebastian finally wins, though, holding Kurt close against his chest and pressing a kiss against his hair as he wiggles himself into a more comfortable position.

“Look, Kurt,” he says when they’re finally settled. “I’m just- I’m really sorry for what happened tonight, I really am, and I’m even more sorry you had to be there and see it.”

“I’m sorry too,” Kurt says, burying himself a little deeper in Sebastian’s arms. This wasn’t how he’d imagined their holiday in Paris, and it definitely wasn’t how he’d imagined this particular evening to end. But even if Sebastian is going to have to do better than a simple apology -however sincere it sounds-, Kurt knows that there’s no way Sebastian would even be here with him if he really wanted to be with Pierre, and that, at least, is worth something. “But I think I understand how it happened and where you were coming from, so I guess I could...”

“... forgive me for impulsively kissing back another man?”

“... give you a free pass for now because I’m _way_ too tired to think about this properly,” Kurt finishes his sentence, and immediately demonstrates his words by having to suppress a yawn.

“Thank you.” Sebastian actually squeezes him, and Kurt closes his eyes, enjoying the feeling of being enveloped so completely by _man_ \- and not just any man. “Thank you. For listening. For understanding. I know your knee-jerk reaction was probably to throw me out so... thank you. And I promise - I’ll let you yell at me all you want at lunch tomorrow, ok?”

“What makes you think I’m gonna wait till lunch?” Kurt asks sternly. “You’re in for the worst-” He yawns. “-the worst breakfast of your _life_ , mister.”

But Sebastian doesn’t immediately reply, and when Kurt turns around in his arms there’s a guilty look on his face.

“Sebble?”

“I...” Sebastian starts hesitantly. “I kind of may have already made plans to have breakfast with Pierre tomorrow?”

“You _what_?”

“Kurt - we’re only here until Sunday and I haven’t seen him in four years. You have to understand-”

“I don’t have to _anything_!” Kurt yells. “Tomorrow’s _our_ anniversary, and even if it weren't - you just spent _a whole evening_ with him!”

“Yes, I know, but four years - Kurt, I don’t even know if I’m ever gonna see him again and he’s kept some of my stuff for me and-”

“Oh no,” Kurt says warningly, scrambling up. This is going way too far, way too quickly. “Nono - you are _not_ going to his house.”

“Excuse me?”

“You just gave me this whole romantic story about how he was your first love and everything and now you expect me to just... let you go spend time with him _at his place_ and be fine with that? I don’t think so.”

“Are you asking me not to go see him?” Sebastian asks, voice dangerously low, but Kurt is too angry to hear the razor sharp edge.

“No,” he snaps. “I am _telling you,_ you can’t go and see him.”

“Or what?”

“Or there might not be anyone to yell at you at lunch tomorrow.”

Sebastian was right, Kurt thinks - it isn’t so much that Kurt needs to be the only man in his life, but he does need to be the most important one. And if he really is as important to Sebastian as he thinks he is, there is no doubt about what -or rather who- Sebastian will choose.

For five, long, tense seconds, Sebastian just stares at him, his eyes shooting fire, but when he finally tears his gaze away it’s not to make an apology.

“Seb,” Kurt asks with increasing worry, following Sebastian off the bed and watching him as he gathers his phone and his jacket. “Seb, what are you doing?”

“ _I_ ,” Sebastian says poisonously as he shrugs on his jacket, “am telling _you_ , to shove your little display of jealousy where the sun don’t shine because I am _not_ interested in seeing it.”

“Sebastian...”

“I came back to you, Kurt!” Sebastian shouts, spinning around to face him. “I came back to _you_ , and I thought you knew what that meant. But just because I did doesn’t mean you get to set the terms on which I am to come back, or to leave, and if you’re really that insecure that you think having breakfast with my ex will make me forget about you then I’ve done something horribly wrong these past six months.”

He zips up his jacket, pats his pockets one last time and then, with three too-quick steps, he’s already at the door.

“Sebastian, wait! Where are you going?”

“To spend the night with someone who _doesn’t_ order me around like I'm his pet!”

The door bangs shut behind him, leaving Kurt alone in the suffocating silence of the hotel room.

He doesn’t understand how they’ve just gone from being perfectly fine to being miles apart in less than three minutes - he’d been right in demanding Sebastian stay with him, hadn’t he? And all right, knowing how much Sebastian detests being told what to do he maybe could’ve phrased it a little better, but that still didn’t warrant Sebastian walking out like that.

Did it?

For the second time that night Kurt’s head is spinning, torn as he is between wanting to go after Sebastian, wanting to give him the space he clearly asked for, and just plain murdering him.

_He came back to me_ , is the thought he holds on to - _he came back to me once, and he’ll come back to me again_. He’s not quite sure who he’s trying to convince, though, and most of all he’s not sure what he’s gonna do even if Sebastian does come back.

.

It’s the sudden beep of an incoming message that jolts Kurt awake the next morning, and he sleepily grabs at his phone, though he’s immediately wide awake when he sees who it is from.

> **_I am very much sorry for yesterday night. Can you meet me for breakfast at 9?_ **

That’s it. Nothing about where he spent the night or what it is he’s sorry for -overreacting? running off? not answering his phone?-, just an address and instructions on how to get there, and Kurt frowns. Did Sebastian really think that it was that simple? That he could just throw a hissy fit and take off, and then expect Kurt to come running when he asks him to join him for breakfast? It wasn’t, and he couldn’t, and Kurt would make that very clear to him over their breakfast together.

Because as much as he hates himself for it - he _is_ going. Of course he’s going, what other options does he have? Not go and risk their argument getting even more out of hand than it already has? Besides, just by the awkward, formal phrasing of the message Kurt can tell that Sebastian is nervous about this, and that makes him feel slightly better.

He shoots off a quick, dry text to confirm he’ll be there ( ** _9.30. you should know better than to give me barely twenty minutes to get ready._** ) and then immediately hops in the shower. He’s still pushing it when he leaves the hotel a little after nine, though, and he hopes that whatever place Sebastian made the reservation at isn’t too fancy, and will forgive his tardiness.

It’s only when he leaves the metro station that he starts to suspect something’s just a little off about the whole situation. The neighborhood he finds himself in is relatively modern, with square, concrete buildings lining the streets. Most of all though most buildings seem to be apartment blocks, with only here and there a shop or a small drug store, and not a single tourist on the street - let alone something that even remotely resembles a nice breakfast place. And that’s when Kurt spots him.

“Kourt!”

The figure jumps up from where he was sat on the curb of one of the apartment blocks, and Kurt quickly glances over his shoulder, hoping that this is all just a cruel coincidence and that the guy with whom Sebastian cheated on him right in front of his nose is not actually waving at him like a kid who sees Mickey Mouse for the first time in his life. But they’re the only two people on the street, and so Kurt can’t even try to pretend he didn’t hear it.

“Kourt, ‘ello!”

Pierre greets him with a too-broad, too-happy smile, and Kurt stiffly shakes the hand that is offered to him.

“You ‘ave no trouble finding?” Pierre asks, pumping his arm. “Sorry for shoutinck, I want not to scare you but our buzzer is broken forever so I ‘ave to come down an’ wait an’ let you in.”

“Where is Sebastian?”

There’s a suspicion creeping up on Kurt, one he hopes with all his heart is not true, because if Sebastian invited him for breakfast _at Pierre’s place_ , he’s gonna be in for something much worse than just a lunch spent being yelled at.

“Upstairs,” Pierre answers the question as if he hasn’t heard the hostility in Kurt’s voice, turning around to open the door behind him. “ ‘e is still in the shower. I wanted to let ‘im sleep as long as possibel but apparently now ‘e is a ‘model’ ‘e needs more time to get ready than ‘e did when ‘e was a student. Are you cominck?”

He’s looking at Kurt questioningly, holding the door open, but Kurt just squints at him.

“If he slept in so long, how did he send me a text at eight this morning?” he asks suspiciously, crossing his arms over his chest, and Pierre smiles.

“ ‘e didn’t,” he says simply. “I did.”

“... why?”

Kurt can only think of so many reasons- no, actually, he can’t think of a single reason why Sebastian’s ex would invite him over for breakfast in Sebastian’s name. Maybe that’s why Pierre’s reply is not what he expected it to be.

“Because I wish somebody ‘ad forced Sébastien to ‘ave breakfast with _me_ after ‘e ran away from me,” Pierre says with a shrug, seemingly indifferent, but for just a split second his expression changes to something different than the big grin he’s been sporting so far. It’s gone before Kurt can put his finger on what it is though. “Now are you cominck or not? I ‘ope you are in good shape, the elevator is broken an’ we are on the fourth floor.”

Kurt’s not in good shape, but he’ll be damned if he lets it show. Still he can’t hide being a little out of breath when they finally arrive on the fourth landing and Pierre unlocks one of the doors.

“After you,” he says with a flourish, and Kurt silently chides himself when he can’t help but think ‘I can see why Sebastian fell for him.’

It feels like he’s entering the lion’s den as he carefully steps into the small hallway. He can hear the shower running -though Sebastian’s not singing the way he usually does, and Kurt can’t decide whether that’s a good or a bad thing- and after he’s carefully hung up his coat Kurt follows Pierre into the small, open kitchen, connected to an equally small living room. The tight feeling of claustrophobia that squeezes his throat only increases when he catches sight of the open bedroom door, showing him a glimpse of an unmade double bed. Visions of tan hands roaming over Sebastian’s body immediately fill his mind, accompanied by moans of pleasure he had only ever heard Sebastian make once, and he fights to make the images disappear. He can’t show how much it affects him, not here, not with... _him_... standing right behind him.

“Kourt?”

“Hmm?”

Kurt turns around with a frown, not quite understanding the question, to find Pierre look at him questioningly.

“I make scrambled eggs,” Pierre says in a way that gives Kurt the feeling he’s repeating the question. “You want real eggs or tofu?”

“Real eggs,” Kurt automatically replies, and then backpedals. “If you have them, of course; I’m sorry, I lived with a vegan all through college and I’m kind of sick of tofu.”

To his surprise Pierre laughs -a low, melodic laugh Kurt wishes he could hate- and moves to the fridge.

“Do not worry yourself. I buy real eggs for Sébastien this morninck anyway,” he says as he takes out the box. “He is like you: one week vegan food an’ he want no more. But sit down, I am sure Sébastien come out soon.”

Indeed they can hear the shower shut off just as Pierre finishes his sentence, and as Pierre gets started on the eggs Kurt walks over to one of the couches to wait for Sebastian. Or at least, that’s the plan, until his attention is drawn by a frame on the wall, a colorful drawing that looks strangely familiar. He slowly moves closer, trying to figure out what it is that even made him look at it twice. It’s definitely not a high-quality drawing -and knowing that Pierre is a professional artist it is even more surprising he deemed it worthy of putting it up- and it’s not until Kurt spots the initials S.S. and the date in the corner, 29/08/19, that it clicks. Because the angle of the drawing is the exact same as that of the drawing Jolene has.

“Sébastien makes it,” a voice suddenly says behind him, and he jumps in surprise.

“What?”

“Sébastien makes the drawing,” Pierre repeats as he points at the frame. “Not master piece, but good first try.”

“You made one too,” Kurt says before he realizes what he’s saying, and he instantly regrets it when Pierre’s face breaks open in a wide grin.

“ ‘e tell you that?” he asks, beaming. “Yes, we make drawing together. He buy mine for ‘is friend, Jolene, for _Noël_.”

“I know,” Kurt says. “I saw it at her place.”

“You know Jolene?” Pierre almost claps in his hands with excitement. “Aw, she is wonderful girl. ‘ow is she?”

But Kurt’s hardly in the mood for small talk, and somehow the knowledge that Pierre knows Jolene is the final drop.

“Why are you doing this?” he bursts out. “Why are you inviting me here and being all nice to me like- like- like we’re _friends_ or something?”

His outburst clearly takes Pierre by surprise, who looks him up and down and then quirks an eyebrow.

“You are saying we _can not_ be friends?”

“Not while you’re trying to steal my boyfriend!” Kurt snaps. “But he’s _mine_ now, you hear? He’s mine, and I promise you: I won’t give him up without a fight.”

“First, I do not try to ‘steal your boyfriend’,” Pierre says coolly, but despite the calm exterior Kurt can hear the anger in his voice. “An’ second if you know Sébastien you know ‘e is not ‘yours’ - or mine. ‘E is ‘is own. But please, do not change your attitude, because ‘e will come back straight to me.”

“Please,” Kurt snorts, “he can’t even see a picture of you without getting a panic attack. What makes you think he’d ever want to get back to you?”

“Oh, I do not know - maybe because ‘e left you in your ‘otel room yesterday an’ came straight to me?” Pierre says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “But do not worry yourself - I do not mind sharing.”

His wink makes it abundantly clear he’s very aware Kurt doesn’t share the sentiment, but still Kurt can’t keep in a poisonous: “Well, I do.”

“I know,” Pierre instantly snaps back. “So do you not agree I ‘ave more reason to not want to be your friend than the other way around?”

“Ladies!” Sebastian’s voice booms, effectively shutting the both of them up. “As exciting as it is to have two men fighting over me - unless you’re planning to actually have hate sex and let me watch I suggest you give it a rest?”

He’s standing at the other end of the room, wearing the same jeans he wore the day before, but a different shirt and sweater. Pierre’s, is Kurt’s guess, and it’s the only reason why he manages to keep himself from running up to Sebastian and kiss him. Because he looks tired, the bags under his eyes testimony his night had been even shorter than Kurt’s, the tension in his shoulders and the croak in his voice when he gives Kurt a careful “Hi.” telling Kurt more about how anxious he feels than words ever could, and for a fleeting second Kurt is grateful to Pierre for letting him sleep in as long as he could afford to. It’s almost enough to make Kurt forget just how angry he still is with Sebastian.

Almost.

But before he can think of something to say or how to act, Pierre claims Sebastian’s attention.

“ _Il est toujours comme ça?_ ” he says with a head nod at Kurt. “ _C’est qu’il est mignon, sinon..._ ”

_“Pépé, arrête_ ,” Sebastian says, obviously more than just a little irritated. “ _Il est juste là. Tu m’as embrassé en face de lui, que veux-tu - qu’il te déclare son amour éternel?_ ”

“ _Ej, j’m’suis excusé pour ça!_ ”Pierre exclaims, throwing his hands up in the air. “ _Je savais pas; et pis tu m’as pas arrêté pas non plus, quoi._ ”

Kurt’s looking back and forth between the two men - they seem to be arguing over something -him?-, but their faces are serious while their voices are mocking and he can’t figure it out. If only Céline Dion had made a song about going to Paris and witnessing your boyfriend kiss his ex right in front of you he might have had the right vocabulary to understand what is being said, but as it is he’s condemned to just watch as Sebastian hits Pierre over the head.

“ _Sois beau et tais-toi. Et fais-moi mon p’tit dej_!”

The last sentence is yelled at Pierre’s back, who immediately turns around and flips Sebastian the bird.

“ _J’suis pas ton esclave!_ ”

“ _T’adorerais être mon esclave._ ”

“ _Connard_.”

“ _Idiot._ ”

And Sebastian smiles. He actually _smiles_ , and later Kurt will think that this was the moment he first realized he could actually _lose_ Sebastian. Because he knows Sebastian loves him - even if he impulsively kissed Pierre back, even if he ran to Pierre after their argument, even if Pierre was ‘the first man he ever fell in love with’: _Sebastian loves Kurt_ , and how could a long-forgotten ghost from his college years ever compete with that?

But even after four years of not seeing each other it seems Pierre knows exactly how to handle Sebastian, how to make him smile even when he’s anxious - and that’s a fine art form Kurt has seen even Jolene fail miserably at.

“Are you ok?”

Sebastian’s voice, suddenly close, pulls Kurt out of his stupor, and he blinks a few times as he forces himself back into reality.

“No,” he finally says - because it’s the truth, and maybe -just maybe- because he wants Sebastian to feel even a fraction of the hurt that’s currently crushing him. “I’m still hoping this is some kind of nightmare and I’ll wake up to find your ex hasn’t actually invited me over for breakfast at his place.”

“I had _no_ idea he did that,” Sebastian immediately starts pleading. “God, Kurt - you have to believe me - he just woke me up and told me you were on your way. I don’t even know _why_ he thought that was a good idea but-”

“He wanted to coerce you to see me,” Kurt says before he can help himself, and when Sebastian shoots him a confused look he has no choice but to elaborate. “He-... he said he wished someone had forced you to have breakfast with _him_ after you... after...”

For a few seconds, Sebastian remains speechless, and then he curses.

“Fuck,” he says, glancing over his shoulder at Pierre, “fuck- I... look, I have to help him with breakfast - I’m pretty sure he hasn’t seen an actual egg up close since I left and we’ll be lucky if he hasn’t burned them yet. Here, just...”

He moves past Kurt, grabbing a couple of blankets off the couch and offering the freed space to Kurt.

“Just sit down, breakfast will be ready in five and then we can get out of here, ok?”

Kurt nods, watching as Sebastian folds the blankets hastily, and it’s only then that the significance of them hits home.

“You... slept on the couch?” he asks, but he instantly regrets it when he sees the look of hurt and disappointment that crosses over Sebastian’s face.

“Of course I slept on the couch,” Sebastian snaps at him. “What do you think - that I’m some kind of dickhead who goes and sleeps with his ex just because he had a fight with his boyfriend?”

“Sebble, that’s not-”

“Yes, it is, Kurt,” Sebastian tells him angrily. “Of course it is. And thank you for that vote of confidence, by the way. Now if you’ll excuse me, I will go ‘cheat’ on you by helping my ex prepare breakfast for us.”

He’s gone before Kurt can say anything, and Kurt slowly lets himself sink in the couch.

Sebastian’s at fault. He keeps telling himself that: Sebastian’s at fault - _he_ was the one kissing Pierre, _he_ was the one who refused to take Kurt’s opinion into account when Kurt said he didn’t want him to see Pierre again, _he_ was the one who took shelter with Pierre while he could’ve easily just found another hotel room. But even if objectively Kurt knows it’s true, he can’t help but feel that everything he’s said and done since that fateful kiss has only resulted in pushing Sebastian further away from him. And despite everything that’s happened, he’s not quite ready to let Sebastian go yet, so maybe it was time to try to make sure Sebastian didn't  _want_ to go either.

Well that, and he’ll be damned if he gives Pierre any more ammunition.

And so Kurt smiles politely when Sebastian brings him his tray with his breakfast. He’s not quite sure whether Pierre usually has breakfast like this -freshly squeezed orange juice, fruit salad, (soy) yoghurt, cereal, and, of course, scrambled eggs- or if he’s just trying to show off, but at least Kurt doesn’t feel forced to lie when he compliments Pierre on it. Despite his best efforts, though, the conversation is tense - Sebastian looks like a kid that accidentally got lost in the supermarket and is now waiting for his parents to tell him off for it, and Kurt can’t help but notice the way Pierre looks at Sebastian when he thinks neither of them is paying attention.

As Sebastian promised, though, they don’t drag out the meal any longer than necessary, and they say their goodbyes quickly. Kurt dutifully shakes Pierre’s hand, but Sebastian...

He doesn’t so much as _touch_ Pierre, though for as close as they’re standing he just as well could have. But the wordless conversation they have just by looking at each other tells Kurt more than a thousand touches ever could, and he feels like an intruder even if he averts his eyes to give them a few seconds alone.

“So... do you want to take the metro or walk back to the hotel?” Sebastian asks uncomfortably when they’re finally out on the street again, the plastic bag Pierre had pressed in his hand last minute swinging idly by his side. “It’s not too far, and we could pass by-”

“Walking’s fine,” Kurt interrupts him. He figures a bit of fresh air will do both of them good, but he honestly doesn’t care too much where exactly they would be going - right now his main problem is whether or not to he should hook his arm through Sebastian’s. Because he doesn’t want to give Sebastian the impression he’s not angry any more - but he doesn’t want him to think he’s not prepared to talk about it, either.

They end up walking in silence for a few minutes, and just as Kurt has gathered his courage to start talking, Sebastian beats him to it.

“Well, I’m not sure about the worst breakfast of my _life_ ,” he says in a clear attempt to joke, “but it’s definitely up there in the top three somewhere.”

He gives Kurt a hesitant smile, and Kurt quickly plasters a fake replica on his own face, even if he can’t keep himself from snapping: “Why, I thought you’d be thrilled to share breakfast with your own little harem.”

“Kurt, that’s not how it is and you know it,” Sebastian says tiredly. “Look - I’m really s-”

“Don’t.” Kurt knows exactly what is gonna follow and he really doesn’t want to hear any of it. “Don’t say it. Don’t say you’re sorry and you never wanted this to happen. Don’t tell me it’s just who you are, that you still love me, that you still choose me. Don’t ask me to forgive you.”

“Why can’t I say it if it is true?”

“Because I _know_ it’s true!” Kurt yells. “Don’t you think I can _feel_ it? Don’t you think I see the way you still look at me? But it’s only making this so much harder because you’re looking at _him_ the exact same way and how do you expect me to be okay with that?”

“Cupcake - it’s not a competition!” Sebastian exasperates, but Kurt shakes his head.

“Then why does it feel like one?” he asks, pushing down the tears pressing behind his eyes. “And why does it feel like I’m losing?”

“You’re not-” Sebastian stops and spins around, grabbing Kurt by the shoulders and making him look in his eyes. “Kurt, you’re not _losing_. You’re not losing anything, least of all me. Not unless you tell me to go. Okay?”

It’s not okay - it’s the furthest from okay they’ve ever been, but still Kurt nods. To Sebastian jealousy was a thrill, so how could Kurt explain that it was killing him? But for all that he loathes Pierre, the man was right about one thing: acting possessive over Sebastian would be a sure fire way of sending him straight back to Pierre. And so Kurt nods, wipes at his cheeks, and keeps on walking.

“What’s in there?” he asks, pointing at the bag in Sebastian’s hands, and Sebastian shrugs, holding it open in front of them so Kurt can see.

“Some stuff he kept,” he says. “My hoodie from university, some souvenirs, a few drawings he apparently wanted me to have, ...”

“And this?”

Kurt reaches inside, taking out an envelope. The logo of the European Union is stamped on the outside, and it’s addressed to Sebastian Smythe, though the postal stamp and the crippled, yellowish paper make it clear it was sent years ago. He holds it up to Sebastian, the question clear, but Sebastian just shrugs.

“Go ahead,” he says, stuffing his hand deep in his pocket as Kurt takes out the letter inside and lets his eyes roam over the words.

“ _Dear Mister Smythe, we are pleased to announce your acceptance as a Marie Curie fellow_ ,” he reads out loud, and then frowns. “I don’t understand. What does Marie Curie has to do with you being a jolly good fellow?”

“It’s a scholarship,” Sebastian explains, his voice strained. “I applied for it before... before I left. I applied for several, actually, so I would be able to stay in Paris and do a PhD here.”

“Are you telling me there’s money lying around somewhere just waiting for you to come back to Paris and do a PhD?” Kurt asks, incredulous, but to his relief Sebastian starts laughing.

“Oh no, I’m sure they were able to make another student quite happy with that money,” he says reassuringly. “Besides, I don’t have a degree because I didn’t actually finish college, so they wouldn’t even let me have it anymore if I came back.”

“You knew about this?” Kurt asks, holding up the letter, and Sebastian shakes his head.

“Pierre gave it to me yesterday night, made me open it. And then we were up for hours talking about it.”

“Why?” Kurt shoots him an uncomprehending look. “You just said you can’t reclaim the scholarship, so what’s the point?”

“I know,” Sebastian says, a little impatiently. “I know, but it’s just... this is a really competitive scholarship, Kurt. So the fact that I got it... I don’t know, it just kind of makes me really proud of my past self, if you understand what I mean? Like I actually accomplished something in my life, even if I didn’t exactly follow through it.”

“But you accomplished so much!” Kurt protest. “You made it in the fashion industry, which is one of the hardest industries out there - and you’re _good_. You're one of the most successful guys in the business.”

But Sebastian just rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, well, I can’t really take credit for having a pretty face, can I?” he says sarcastically. “And before you say modeling is hard work and remind me of all the gym hours I put in - it’s just not the same thing. Not to me. I mean... just imagine: I could’ve been a scientist, Kurt. An actual, honest-to-god scientist. I could have been doing what I love most and actually be paid for it too - I even could have been finishing up my doctorate here right about now. I could’ve been so much more than what I am now, Kurt.”

There’s something in Sebastian’s demeanor that throws Kurt off, a certain sadness, or melancholy maybe, and his stomach drops when he finally figures it out.

“You’re thinking about staying, aren’t you?” 

Sebastian’s silence is answer enough, and Kurt gasps.

“Sebastian!”

“It’s not about Pierre, okay!” Sebastian drags his hands through his hair, eyes darting everywhere before they land back on Kurt, and he backpedals. “It’s not... it's not  _just_ about Pierre. It’s... I could have _lived_ here, Kurt! _Here_! Just look at it!”

He spreads his arms wide, tilting his face towards the sun.

“I could have been living here - with an awesome job and a good place to live and a loving boyfriend... I could’ve had _everything_.”

“You wouldn’t have had me...”

“Sweetiepie...”

In an instant, Sebastian is right in front of Kurt, both hands on his cheeks and a worried look in his eyes.

“Kurt, if anything good has come from my return to the States, if there’s any reason at all I don’t regret it - it’s you, hands down, ok? You are an amazing person, and you have no idea how much you’ve done for me simply by loving me.”

“Then why are you staying?”

Because there’s not a doubt in Kurt’s mind that Sebastian won’t be leaving Paris together with him, not with the way he’s already talking like he’s saying goodbye.

“Look, Kurt...” Sebastian sighs. “I just need to figure this out. For the past four years I've been thinking I was living a borrowed life, a lie. And I was, but not in the way I thought I was. I had my life here, and I just... threw it all away because I was too much of a coward to face the consequences of my mistakes. And coming back here, seeing Pierre again, and then this letter... I’m just not ready to go back yet.”

“So that’s it then?” Kurt asks. He’s fighting to keep the desperation out of his voice but how could he, when he’s watching his whole life falling apart a little more with every word Sebastian speaks. “I leave tomorrow and it’s all over? A kiss and a letter and that’s all it takes for you to forget about me? About us?”

“Kurt, no - of course not!”

Sebastian reaches out, trying to pull Kurt closer, but Kurt immediately steps back.

“Kurt... I _will_ come back to you.”

“And when will that be?”

Sebastian shrugs, glancing at the ground and then back at Kurt.

“I don’t know,” he says.

“And meanwhile, will you be ‘coming back’ to Pierre as well?”

“... that depends on you.”

The reply doesn’t just makes Kurt’s stomach churn - it’s the final drop in a bucket that’s been filling up ever since he ran away the night before and left Sebastian with Pierre, and Kurt has finally, officially, had enough.

“So let me get this straight,” he says. “You kissed your ex-boyfriend right in front of me, you took him out for dinner, you ran to him when I told you I wanted you to spend breakfast with me instead of with him on the day of our anniversary, and now you’re telling me you don’t want to go home with me but instead stay with _him_ , and you’re actually asking for permission to... to-” He almost chokes on the word, too angry and too disappointed to actually say it. “-to _fuck_ him, but it’s all okay because afterwards you’re coming back to _me_?

“Well, I’m sorry, Sebastian, but the answer is no. Because I’ve been trying... I’ve been trying _so hard_ \- to be patient, to be understanding of... you, and who you are. I tried so, so hard... but I can’t do this. I can’t go home and wait for you to come back like some damsel in distress, and I won’t let you put me in second place. I deserve to be your first priority, and I deserve to be the only one. And if you can’t give me that... then you shouldn’t be giving me anything at all.”

He stuffs the letter he's still holding in Sebastian's hands, and turns around. Sebastian doesn't get to see his tears, he doesn't get a goodbye kiss or even a wave - Kurt is done.

He walks away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... and here we are... - quite a ride, wasn't it?
> 
> So, this is where the story ends - kind of. A number of people, at least, have told me that this is where it ends for them, and even if may not be a happy one, I think it's a good one.
> 
> However. In the original story, there was an epilogue after this (it's still there, of course, but you don't need to read it) with a more happy sort of ending, but I got quite a few remarks (and rightly so) about it, and about the abrupt way in which I skipped from this point to another point six years down the line, which is when the epilogue is set. I therefore wrote an extra chapter of sorts, which fits in between this chapter and the epilogue, and if you want a glimpse of how I see this story playing out, I suggest you start [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/675110), and continue to the epilogue after that... whichever ending you choose, I hope you enjoyed the story, and thank you for reading!


	22. Epilogue

“... and with that, ladies and gentlemen, dear members of the jury, I would like to end this presentation. I thank you for your attention, and will now take your questions.”

The applause is deafening, but there’s nobody clapping harder than Kurt, beaming with pride as he watches how Sebastian makes a small, almost shy bow, and then takes a sip of his little bottle of water, grinning when he catches Kurt’s encouraging wink. They’re not quite done yet, though, but it surprises no one when Sebastian easily breezes through the question round, and soon enough the president of the jury finally declares that from now on Sebastian Eric Smythe can rightfully call himself a Doctor of Science.

It’s taken six years for Sebastian to get where he is now - first to get back into college and finish his degree, then to find a scholarship, and then to do the actual PhD. It’s taken almost as long for Kurt and Sebastian to where they are now - happy, and together.

They even have a cat.

It wasn’t an easy road. In fact, finding a way to harmonize their opposing views on relationships was probably one of the hardest things either of them ever accomplished - PhD included. And even if Jolene denies it every time he hints at it, Kurt is sure that she is responsible for them even trying, by manipulating Sebastian’s schedule so as to maximize the number of times they ‘accidentally’ ran into each other on the work floor.

It’s really hard to stay away from the person you love when they’re constantly around, and when you end up either in bed or curled up on a couch together watching a movie nearly every time you see each other, there comes a time when you need to reevaluate your ‘friendship’. Getting back together had been the easy part, though. _Staying_ together, on the other hand...

“Hello, darling of mine,” Sebastian’s voice whispers in Kurt’s ear as his arms close around him from behind, and Kurt closes his eyes as he lets himself melt back in the embrace, forgetting for a moment that they’re in the middle of a reception in Sebastian’s honor.

“Hello, doctor of mine,” he murmurs back, smiling. “How are you on this fine day?”

“I am excellent, thank you. Yourself?”

“Unbearable chest pains, I’m afraid to say,” Kurt admits, “I fear my heart might pop out any minute now. Too much pride, I believe.”

“Now that _does_ sound like a serious condition,” Sebastian says gravely, always quick to jump on the roleplaying bandwagon, as he lets his hands wander over Kurt’s chest. “Do you think you might survive for a little longer as I politely hang out with the venerable albeit boring members of my jury? I promise I’ll take a... thorough... look at it later...”

He teasingly bites down at the basis of Kurt’s neck, and Kurt jumps, pushing Sebastian off him.

“Stop that!” he admonishes, though he can’t help laughing. “And just go already, I’ll be right here waiting for you.”

Sebastian gives him a kiss instead, but then he is gone, leaving Kurt surrounded by friends and colleagues of Sebastian that he’s never met before... and _him_.

“Hello, Kurt.”

His French accent is only barely noticeable anymore, but apart from that he hasn’t changed much: his black hair is still too long and too messy, there is a stain of pink paint peaking out from under his sleeve, and Kurt is prepared to bet the clothes he’s wearing are the exact same ones he had on when Kurt last saw him all those years ago.

“Pierre.”

It was easier when he didn’t have to see Pierre, when he stayed on his own side of the ocean and he was just something Kurt had to deal with once or twice a year, whenever Sebastian would get restless and needed to both get rid off some energy and stock up on it.

_Pierre drives me crazy, but you’re the one who keeps me sane_ , is how Sebastian usually describes the arrangement they’d finally settled on, and even if Kurt still considers himself the crazy one when he thinks about it rationally - it just... works. A round trip to Paris has the same effect on Sebastian as a full body massage on a normal person, both relaxing and energizing him in a way Kurt just doesn’t know how to, but if he ever gets nervous this time around Sebastian might not come back to him, all he has to do is ask how Pierre is doing.

_He burnt the spaghetti, Kurt_ , Sebastian would e-mail him then, _the only thing he has to do is to put it in a big pot of boiling water and wait, and he burns it. This is why he’s vegan - condemned to a life of eating raw vegetables because he can’t cook to save his life. Literally._ Or he’d text: _He’s trying to kill me. It’s minus four out, it’s snowing and he’s taking me out on a drawing trip. If you haven’t heard from me by six your time, send help. I love you._

And when he comes back, full of new stories, each one crazier than the next, Kurt picks him up at the airport, takes him home, and nurses him back to sanity. Until the normalcy and routine of day-to-day life in turn make Sebastian restless again and he jumps on the next plane to Paris to stock up on crazy, and the cycle can start all over.

“I just... I guess I just want to come and say thank you,” Pierre says a little off-handedly, taking Kurt by surprise, and it takes him a moment before he understands what Pierre means.

“I didn’t agree to it for your sake,” he finally says, probably a little surlier than strictly necessary, but Pierre doesn’t seem to take any offense.

“I know,” he says. “I know. But you still do it, and you do not have to. Sébastien is... very important to me, and I want that you know I really, really appreciate it.”

Kurt doesn’t even know what to say to that - what _is_ the right protocol when your boyfriend’s lover personally thanks you for... being allowed second place? Pierre seems to take his silence as a sign, though, and he awkwardly points behind him.

“But-uhm... yeah. I will-uh... I will go now.”

“Oh, no - please, you don’t have to-” Kurt catches himself only just in time to keep from grabbing Pierre by the arm -because that would be weird- and after a deep breath he tries again. “We can talk. If you want. I mean, it’s not like I know any of these other science weirdos here, and I think I’ve already taken all the proud parent talk I can handle for one evening.”

He nods towards the other side of the room, where Sebastian’s mother and father are enthusiastically chatting to a bored-looking jury member who seems desperate to get out of the conversation.

“His dad looks like a hotdog eating champion or something,” is Pierre’s dry remark as he follows Kurt’s line of sight, and Kurt realizes this is probably the first time he sees Sebastian’s parents. “But good thing baldness runs along the female line at least, was not looking forward to that.”

Kurt raises an eyebrow.

“I didn’t know you had such an interest in science?” he asks and Pierre rolls his eyes.

“Please,” he says, “I could not care less. But there is a guy I know who visit me once in a while and he constantly spews random scientific facts and-”

“Oh my god he does that with you too?” Kurt gasps. “It’s-”

“- _so annoying_!”

They both say it at the same time, and then promptly burst out laughing together. They’re still recovering their breaths and chuckling a little when Kurt catches Sebastian watching them, a surprised look on his face. But as soon as he notices Kurt and Pierre looking back at him the look is gone, replaced by a cocky smirk, and he puts up three fingers, raising his eyebrows questioningly as he makes a circular movement with his hand.

“Still obsessed with threesomes, I see,” Pierre sighs, plastering a big innocent smile on his face as he shakes his head at Sebastian, and then turns towards Kurt. “Do not, under any circumstance, let him trick you into one. He _will_ find a way to be the center of attention and it will be all work no play for you.”

“Oh I know,” Kurt tells him even as he gives Sebastian a little wave of his finger and a smile identical to Pierre’s, “trust me, I know.”

He's never been able to really tell anyone about the little experiment he so foolishly had proposed all those years ago -even talking to Jolene about it had felt weird-, but he tells it to Pierre now, making him laugh as he talks about Sebastian's excitement and his own indignation, and they're still talking when Sebastian joins them when the jury members have finally gone home, and the reception starts dwindling down.

"Having fun?" he asks, and Kurt and Pierre exchange a look.

"Collecting blackmailing material," Kurt says matter-of-factly. "It appears you don't stomach Belgian beer too well?"

"Pépé..." Sebastian starts, and Kurt's pleasantly surprised to discover a hint of uncertainty behind the playfulness Sebastian is simulating. Pierre, however, just raises his hands innocently.

"You say do not tell anyone," he says. "I do not tell anyone. I just show pictures."

"I... think it's time we're going home," Sebastian says as he claps in his hands and plasters on a smile. "Kurt?"

"Right behind you," Kurt says, dropping his empty glass on a table nearby and searching his pockets for the cloakroom ticket.

Pierre does the same, following them as they get their jackets and shrug them on.

"Pépé - I'll see you tomorrow," Sebastian says, giving the other man a tight hug. "I'll pick you up at your hotel at, what, nine?"

"Ten," Pierre immediately amends, and Sebastian rolls his eyes.

"The Met opens at nine thirty," he says sternly. "I'll pick you up at nine. Take care...  _je t'aime_."

" _Je t'aime_ ," Pierre responds, closing his eyes as Sebastian presses a kiss against his forehead, and with one final squeeze in Sebastian's hand he waves them goodbye, starting down the street to flag down a taxi.

"I can call him back, you know," Sebastian says behind Kurt as he watches him go. "You seemed to get along better than last time, I'm sure we could-"

"Not a chance, Sebastian," Kurt says, snaking his arms around Sebastian's neck. "Not. a. chance."

Sebastian doesn't even bother to pretend he's disappointed, kissing Kurt instead, and holding him tight.

"Well then, where to?" he asks, and Kurt doesn't hesitate.

"Home," he says. "I want to go home."

There's a smile curling around Sebastian's lips, but he nods anyway, offering Kurt his arm as they go search for a taxi. They can still see Pierre's silhouette, his untamed hair waving in the wind of the cars that rush him by, and Kurt's not surprised to find that, unlike six years ago, he doesn't secretly hope Pierre will actually get run over. Because, sure, Pierre might be taking Sebastian away from him from time to time.

But Sebastian's heart?

That belonged to Kurt, and to Kurt alone.

**Author's Note:**

> I... first of all, if any of you make it this far - I would like to thank you; and I sincerely hope you liked it, despite its unorthodox ending (or maybe because of it?). The fic was the result of six months of brooding and writing, and then three weeks of frantically rewriting everything, and I really hope I was able to entertain you in some way, and maybe get you to think about a few things. A lot of work went into it all, so if you could spare me a moment to share your thoughts, that would be awesome.
> 
> For those who missed the A/N at the end of the last chapter or who skipped straight to the epilogue but find themselves hanging, [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/675110) is the extra chapter I wrote at the suggestion of a few readers, to help explain why I do not feel Kurt's acceptance of Pierre as Sebastian's lover is OOC.
> 
> Once again though, I thank you for making it this far, I sincerely hope you enjoyed it and you were maybe able to take something away from it, and I wish you a good day!  
> -aworldoflis


End file.
